


Gone Days

by TalicTriesToWrite



Series: A Collection of Stray Kids Oneshots [6]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bang Chan & Lee Felix are Related, Character Study, Coming of Age, Falling In Love, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Han Jisung | Han is a Little Shit, Implied Sexual Content, Jeongin gets 3 seconds of screentime but he is a king, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know is a Confident Gay, Lee Minho | Lee Know is a Panicked Gay, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Miscommunication, No Smut, but almost, mark this for later u cowards, one sided get rekt, simultaneously, this whole fic is a rip chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalicTriesToWrite/pseuds/TalicTriesToWrite
Summary: Lee Minho's got a teensy-weensy problem.He is slowly falling for his best friend and roommate of two years - the sarcastic, the intelligent, the stubborn Kim Seungmin.The Kim Seungmin who works so hard in everything he does. The Kim Seungmin Minho just can't stop thinking about. The Kim Seungmin who isn't gay.Featuring a bet between them on if Felix and Hyunjin will finally get together or not, Seungmin's childhood  best friend  Jeongin who can't bake cakes but can fix ovens (???), a chatty barista co-worker Jisung who's convinced Minho's colour-blind, the ever great, kinda-hot note-giving Bang Chan in his business course and Seo Changbin (the man who becomes Lee Minho's least favourite person in a matter of moments.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: A Collection of Stray Kids Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564417
Comments: 28
Kudos: 204





	Gone Days

It all started with a bang.

And not the sexy-kind of bang, or ‘Bang’ Chan that he enjoyed, it was the explosion-kind of bang. The worst kind of bang, in Lee Minho’s opinion.

He heard it walking up the dingy stairs to his and Seungmin’s shared apartment, his footsteps illuminated by the flickering light above him.

Frowning, he ignored it and moved towards his door, juggling his backpack filled with one textbook, the groceries he promised to pick up and the five-kilo bag of cat-litter as he struggled to fit the key in the lock.

As soon as he opened the door to his apartment, smoke stung his eyes and filled his lungs.

“Min?” he called out, dropping the groceries on the floor and started to jog into the kitchen, fear eating away at his very heart. When there was no answer, he felt his nerves skyrocket and his voice become higher; frightened. “Seungmin?”

An evil-sounding cackle bit though the deafening shriek of the smoke alarm he hadn’t even realised was there and the lump in this throat started to grow bigger as he turned to corner and-

“Surprise!” A yell made him almost lose his footing and slip on the kitchen tiles, and with a bewildered expression, Minho looked towards the kitchen counter.

Then he glanced to the terribly burnt cake and the open oven.

_Then_ he saw the smug look on Seungmin’s stupid face and the unrestrained glee on Yang Jeongin’s beside him.

“Oh my god, hyung!” Jeongin choked, tipping his head back in that same evil laughter. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack!”

Upon realising that there was no real threat, Minho let himself relax, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale then immediately being replaced by putrid smoke, making him almost collapse in a coughing fit.

“Jesus, you two” he cursed when he recovered. “I thought you had burned down the house.”

He straightened up, his heart slowly calming down from its shock. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the concoction that had seemingly caused all this trouble in the first place. “Why the hell did you make a cake? It’s not my birthday for ages!”

“For your one-year-of-not-being-fired celebration, Minho-hyung” Seungmin responded devilishly, making Minho almost hate the younger, which he definitely would do if it wasn’t for the six-month contract they had just signed to renew their rent.

“God,” Minho sighed, not giving either of them the satisfaction of looking at the cake again. His eyes scanned the floor for one of the two familiar lithe frames until he found it, huddled up behind the couch.

“Guys,” he whined, walking towards the animal with his arms outstretched in sympathy. “You scared Soonie!”

The cat mewed quietly as Minho picked her up, running his fingers through the spiked-up ginger tabby fur. He whispered a few reassuring words into the cat’s ear before glaring at the two menaces before him, demanding a better explanation.

“Sorry, Hyung” Jeongin started, having the common-sense to look slightly guilty. “I accidentally set the timer too long and… well, I think you need to buy a new oven.”

Looking away from the youngest, Minho cocked an eyebrow at the other boy, who was leaning on the counter without a care in the world. “And you?”

Seungmin had the audacity to look completely unapologetic. “Well, not going to lie, but you totally ruined the surprise, Hyung. I was going to ice the cake and everything so you wouldn’t be able to see how burnt it was.”

Minho felt his eyes widen so far that for a second, he feared they would pop out of his head. “Are you kidding me Seungmin? This isn’t about the cake – it’s about the smoke and the noise and the oven, and how you’ve both completely terrified one of my children!”

Seungmin shrugged looking away before meeting Minho’s eyes again a challenge in his golden-brown orbs. “Say, happy one-year anniversary of your job and two years of living together, Hyung?”

A beat of silence passed through the room.

Right. Apart from his getting his job as an over-the-counter sandwich maker, today was the day of another special monumental moment of his lifetime. He hadn’t even remembered, but of course, Seungmin had for him.

He softened.

“Okay.”

Minho had grumbled the words so quietly that only Soonie could possibly hear, but Seungmin somehow seemed to have super-sonic-sonar hearing and had also heard him.

At his words, the younger sent him such a beaming smile that despite his faux-irritated eye roll, Minho couldn’t help but smile back too.

And that’s where it started. An almost house-fire, an extremely dry and soot-covered cake, a visit from Seungmin’s high-school friend, and a one-year-slash-two-year anniversary. That’s when he started to realise, he had developed a crush on his prank-playing, intelligent, almost-no-nonsense roommate Kim Seungmin.

It had been three weeks since the apartment almost burnt down, two weeks since Minho was called and then consequently yelled at by the landlord for the noise and the smoke, one week since Jeongin miraculously fixed the oven, and one day since he had to go back to Busan.

Minho was sad to see the younger leave – he knew that Seungmin and Jeongin had been best friends in high-school, but with Seungmin a year older, Jeongin was only completing his final year now.

“I’ll come back to Seoul soon, okay?” Jeongin had promised, making the taxi driver honk angrily from where he was waiting at the curb.

Minho had laughed at how the boy paid it little mind and embraced them both in a hug.

“Bye Innie” Seungmin had whispered, sounding a little sad.

Jeongin though had smiled. “Bye Seungmin-hyung, bye Minho-hyung.”

Minho had leaned carefully into Seungmin’s shoulder, expecting to be immediately pushed off, as the car rolled away from the curb. But Seungmin hadn’t moved, just had rested his head against Minho’s.

That had made his heart stutter in its constant beating, had made his cheeks slightly blush.

That night the apartment seemed bigger, unfortunately so.

The couch had looked like it was missing someone, and Minho marvelled at how easily Jeongin had integrated himself into their mundane routine until it was normal, even if he only stayed for a month.

Seungmin hadn’t been able to focus on the Disney movie they were watching together in mourning and that was when Minho knew it was serious.

“Min?” he had asked, the delicate question cutting through thin air. “You feeling okay?”

Seungmin had paused, frozen at the break of silence. He had swallowed then looked away from the television screen. “N-No.”

Minho had bit his lip at that. Seungmin never liked to admit he was weak, or that he was wrong. It was something they both shared; something they had both bonded over.

“Do you…” he had started, the risky question jammed in his throat. “Do you want a hug?”

Seungmin had been quiet again, but Minho didn’t need words for an answer, he saw it in the way that the younger’s shoulder’s shifted and how his leg stopped bouncing, that the answer was yes.

So, with the gracefulness and ease of a dancer, Minho had moved onto the other couch and hesitantly placed his hand on the younger’s shoulder, afraid the usually contact-avoidant boy would jolt away as if burnt by his touch.

But Seungmin instead had melted.

And they had cuddled together like it was something so casual but so precious until the credits sequence rolled.

And then, they had fallen asleep.

But when Minho woke up and for some reason expected a little bit of a change, a softness from Seungmin that morning, there was nothing but a note saying the younger had left early and would be back for dinner.

The couch felt empty. Cold.

Minho huffed at the post-it-note (pale yellow meaning low-importance in Seungmin’s organised system), and its message before scrunching it up and tossing it onto the floor where Soonie and Doongie could play with it for a while before they got bored.

He sighed; the noise too loud in the room.

And he wished Seungmin and Jeongin were with him now.

(He pretended he wished for them both equally – Seungmin’s sarcasm and red cheeks and Jeongin’s smile and surprising ability to fix household appliances, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart leapt at the former, and not the latter.)

Minho hated Wednesdays the most. It was the day he didn’t have any classes (no matter how much he disliked them, it was still some form of socialisation) or work (which he also low-key hated) or dance practice with his other friends Felix and Hyunjin.

It was also the day when Seungmin was gone from morning to night and was often too tired to watch whatever was on that night with Minho before the pair went to bed. That meant it was a day where Minho couldn’t sit next to the boy on their single sofa, and try to sneak in a cuddle, and that made him also hate Wednesdays.

Soonie and Doongie were the only two to keep him company (as they had since he was in middle school, so for a decade now), and as much as he loved them, sometimes they would throw literal hissy-fits and refuse to come near him unless he was extending to an olive branch of the treats he promised Seungmin he’d only feed them on special occasions. And it seemed today was also a ‘cats-hate-him’ day.

He spent the morning going through his business homework, learning yet another girl-group dance before attempting (and failing) to choreograph a dance of his own, picking at the edible parts of Seungmin and Jeongin’s disaster cake (the icing he had helped put on covered the brittleness of the burnt bits) and lying in his bed doing absolutely nothing before trying to dance again.

Dance was what he wanted to pursue in the future. And with the whole KPOP industry booming, it was simultaneously easier (more job openings) and harder (more expectations and demands) to find work there. His parents, however, had not been so keen on the idea, so he was currently suffering through a (useless) business degree at university with a minor of dance to please them.

Honestly, dance was almost his whole life; he had _done it_ for almost his whole life. Not only was it his passion, but also his main stress-reliever – something to channel his emotions whether good or bad into (although in fairness he didn’t have many negative emotions anyway) and thus another reason he loved it.

Bored of lying around thinking of everything and nothing, he even cleaned the house for a while, dusting his and Seungmin’s room (making sure to steer clear of the desk where Minho knew it was carefully and almost obsessively organised with to-do-lists coloured papers and textbooks) before dragging the vacuum out of storage and going around the house with that.

It was by two p.m. he decided to get dressed in something other than his pyjamas and go out and explore the world. He walked down the street to the train station and boarded a train going to a place he had never heard of.

It was something he liked to do – go somewhere he hadn’t been, get lost for a while before making his way home. It was a very Lee Minho thing to do, as Seungmin had once dubbed it, and he liked it than evermore.

He got off ten minutes later, knowing he would get cold in Seoul’s spring if he was out for too long, and when he walked down the stairs and into the street he smiled. It was a beautiful place, enticing and somewhat romantic with its non-busy streets (a rarity these days) and small locally-owned street-side shoppes.

Plants hung from many windows, making the street idyllic in a way that he decided he loved, and he plugged in his earphones and turned on his ‘calm’ playlist as be wandered down the alleyways.

A few songs in he stopped, something in the window catching his eye.

A weekly planner, even better a magnetic one – one Seungmin had been scouring for since last month when they had gotten into a small argument about time (not the concept, the lack of it) and scheduling.

He went into the small stationery store and checked the price, and then his pocket for a handful of crumpled notes.

Perfect.

He purchased the fridge-calendar and left the small shop waving goodbye to the flushed teen cashier that had frozen for a few seconds when he attempted to pay (he tried to not let it inflate his ego) and walked chirpily down the street, the rustle of the plastic bag lightening his steps.

He kept walking through the streets, petting a stray cat when it weaved through his legs and stopping to help an elderly man find the right bus stop, before getting back on a train to his home, realising, that when the sky turned orange, he had been out for long enough.

Surprisingly, he made it home after Seungmin did.

“You went out?” the younger asked, staring at his laptop, his hands cupping a warm mug of pomegranate tea.

Minho toed his shoes off at the door and replaced them for slippers before responding. “Yeah, I found this really cool area – a lot of cute shops and cafés, it was really nice.”

He crouched down to pet Doongie, who seemed to have given up her grudge against him from earlier and placed the bag gently on the table.

“Why are you home early?” Minho asked, smirking as Doongie arched her back into his hand and let out a soft purr.

“My med-friends had stuff on tonight so we couldn’t catch up,” Seungmin replied and Minho nodded, scratching the cat’s chin.

The ‘med friends’ were Seungmin’s course mates from his year of university and the ones above. Every Wednesday they usually met up to go over content and tutor each other in some sort of way (a way that at first Minho had felt slightly excluded from, but when Seungmin had come back the second meeting a year-or-so ago holding pictures of real-life hearts, he decided he’d much rather not attend.)

“What’s that?” Seungmin asked, staring at his computer, and Minho giggled at the youngers attempt to remain uninterested in the plastic bag.

His laugh was what tore Seungmin’s eyes away from the document he was typing at his laptop and glare at the elder with no malice behind his eyes. “Well? What is it?”

Minho stood back up and teasingly held the bag in front of the younger’s eyes, dangling it like a carrot on a stick.

“Hyung,” Seungmin drawled out cutely (no, not cutely damn it) closing the face of his laptop after a few seconds of Minho’s jovial teasing. “What is it?”

Minho smiled softly at Seungmin’s puppy-dog-eyes he only pulled out when he really wanted Minho to do something for him (once again, Minho marvelled at the striking similarities to a golden retriever) and gave in, slowly unwrapping the bag.

“Well, I thought you’d like it and I think it would be pretty useful for us” Minho started, a small feeling of untypical nervousness taking over his body. “But if you don’t like the colour or anything the shop had more so I can take it back but-”

He slapped the blank timetable on the dining table, the noise a satisfying ‘whack’ through the apartment.

“-Here it is! A calendar for us – it can stick on the fridge!”

He watched wide-eyed and expectant as Seungmin examined the object for a second, before excitedly looking up at him.

“Minho-hyung,” he keened, grabbing the weekly planner in almost childish delight. “This is exactly what we needed! What I wanted!”

Minho felt like his whole body became weightless, and his heart pound at the way Seungmin smiled, the sight a rarity, a treasure like striking gold in his eyes.

_He likes it_ he thought, comically watching as Seungmin started to rant about the pros of having a structured timeline of each day and how simple it would be to plan things with each other from now on. _He likes the present I bought for him!_

With a skip in his step, he bounded over to where Seungmin was examining the fridge like it was a map so he could find the perfect place to put the newly-bought-and-gifted planner.

“Thank you, Hyung,” Seungmin gushed after he placed the timetable in a place, he deemed suitable. “This is going to make our lives so much easier; I promise.”

Minho didn’t answer for a second, too captivated in the way when Seungmin grinned his left cheek was slightly puffier, and the way his eyes danced with mirth as he spoke. His dyed dark brown hair Minho had dared him to get two weeks ago seemed fluffier than usual – softer. He fought the overwhelming impulse to reach out and touch it-

“Hyung?”

Snapping out of his haze, Minho blinked to readjust his eyes and shook his head to clear it of any intruding thoughts.

”Uh - yeah, Min,” he recovered, leaning against the counter-top so he was directly in front of Seungmin and he let some cockiness slide into his tone. “I know I’m the greatest Hyung ever, you don’t have to tell me.”

Seungmin chuckled again and Minho could smell the scent of pomegranate tea on his breath. With one look down he realised how close they were standing; how close the tips of the noses were to each other. At the discovery, his heart sped up and became so loud Minho could hear it in his ears. He felt a blush spread across his cheeks and he imagined his blood pressure rising so high it could give him a heart attack and-

Seungmin stepped back, bumping into the fridge, a slightly perplexed look on his face.

The intensity of the moment drifted away in an instant and Minho felt like he could breathe again.

“I left some hot water in the kettle,” Seungmin indicated towards their small blue kettle, still looking slightly confused. He turned away from Minho. “You can make yourself some tea if you want.”

Minho swallowed and awkwardly turned on the kettle despite it just having been boiled.

_What the hell was that?_ He willed his heart to calm down so he could actually hear himself think, but it still pounded in his ears with no mercy. Jesus, Minho! Calm down!

It took another moment for his to regain his breath that had slipped away for a good second. Cautiously he peered towards Seungmin, but the younger’s face was infuriatingly blank, something the boy had always been good at doing, and something Minho could never figure out, no matter how hard he tried.

Minho poured himself a cup of peppermint tea and walked past Seungmin to the television which he dutifully turned on to a crime documentary but couldn’t focus on.

They went to bed that night without many words and that was how Minho knew that Seungmin felt whatever he had, too.

A glimmer of hope ignited in his chest, but he pushed it down as he lied in bed that night, the darkness serving as a blanket and the night as welcome as Christmas presents so he could have time to think.

_What even was that?_ He pondered, his cheeks aflame again when he thought of how… intimate that moment was. _Stop right there_ _–_ _Seungmin_ _…_ _doesn_ _’_ _t think the same way_ _…_ _he_ _’_ _s not_ _…_ _not gay._

Sighing, he rolled around in his bed, so he faced the wall rather than the door.

His bed felt colder than usual; lonely.

He fell asleep thinking about walking down streets and buying stationery, but with a certain brown-haired boy at his side.

Minho rushed into class thirty minutes late with his eyebrows drawn together in frustration and his cheeks more red than usual. Ignoring the way his lecturer shot him a dirty glare, he slumped into his seat at the back of the hall right beside his only friend in his classes; Bang ‘Christopher’ Chan.

“You’re late,” Chan observed his dimples on display when he sent Minho a soft side-smile, sliding his book over to him like he did every other day when Minho was either a) lazy or b) late.

“Your charm won’t work on me this morning Chan-hyung,” Minho dead-panned and opened his books loudly, forcing himself to not glare back at the girl in front of him who turned back to shush him with a nasty frown.

Chan’s face went from amused to concerned and Minho almost felt bad about acting so blunt.

“Why?” Chan asked, swivelling in his chair. “What happened?”

Minho sighed, recounting the morning's events. “I’m alright, it’s just the children.”

Chan appeared confused for a second before Minho tailed on ‘ _the cats, idiot._ _’_

“Oh right,” Chan said, nodding as he tapped his pen on the little tables connected to the chairs. “What happened to them, then?”

Minho occupied himself with turning to the right page of his book as if it would delay the inevitable. “Soonie, just…” he trailed off, thinking back to when he woke up and the scare that followed it. “She’s just… getting old, ya know?”

Chan froze, his pen stopping mid-air.

Minho bit his lip, remembering how Soonie hadn’t woken up when he had called her name, or when he’d filled up her kitty-bowl full of her favourite fish-shaped kibble. Doongie’s unpleasant yowls had caught his attention just as he had been about to leave, and he had shaken the tabby’s shoulder in an attempt to wake her up.

Thankfully, after the three worst seconds of his life, she had blinked open a weary eye and turned to look at him, like she hadn’t just given him the fright of his twenty-one years of living and the eight years of owning her.

Usually, he’d get Seungmin to help him in times like that, but the younger had left early. Yet again.

“Shit,” Chan leaned back.

Minho looked at the elder his eyes raking over the dark curly hair, black hoodie and headphones around his neck. He looked deep in thought, something that made Minho chuckle before lightly jabbing the Australian with his elbow.

“What you thinkin’ bout?”

Chan flickered his eyes back to Minho, as if unsure in what he was about to say. “I know this sounds bad,” the elder started, immediately making Minho raise his defences. “But I’ve heard getting a younger cat can energise the elder ones – like a battery of some sort.”

Minho blinked at the other, expecting him to say something more, but Chan seemed down with his metaphors. He snorted, “That is about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey!” Chan whined, sounding slightly offended. “No, it isn’t! I heard the whole young-cat-old-cat thing’s true-”

“Mr Bang, Mr Lee,” the teacher interrupted, and Minho let his face drop into a scowl.

The teacher looked almost triumphant in his stupid ironed suit – a reason that Minho hated this class in the first place.

“Do you care to share what you’re gossiping about to the whole class?”

“Yeah,” Chan called out and Minho snickered at the teacher’s blank expression. “We’re talking about cats, sir.”

Minho laughed as the teacher went pale, then turned pissed off.

“If you want to chat about cats which you seemingly do, then do it out of my classroom. I expect better behaviour from the both of you next lesson, yes?”

Minho got the message loud and clear, and with a huff, he closed his textbook he hadn’t read since class one and shoved it in his backpack. Chan beside him did the same and together they shuffled out of the lecture hall, the eyes of a hundred others on them.

“What a dick,” Chan remarked as they walked down the empty hall.

“You know if you kept your mouth shut, we could have stayed there, I thought you needed these credits” Minho cocked an eyebrow in humour and Chan scoffed.

“Nah, I wanted to get out of there,” he said, running a hand though his tattered hair. Cheekily he glanced towards Minho. “Wanna get burgers with me, yes or yes?”

Minho rolled his eyes at the TWICE reference. “What choice do I have?”

“Fast-food or restaurant?”

“Fast food.”

Chan nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”

Minho wiped a hand through his sweaty hair before collapsing onto the uncomfortable pillow-bench Hyunjin had insisted on buying and gulped a few sips of water that would have the world record books quaking.

“Jesus, hyung! The choreo wasn’t that bad was it?” Felix’s deep voice cut through his tired-induced slump and Minho took a second to breathe before groaning in pain.

“Felix,” Hyunjin panted out, star-fished on the wooden polished dance floors in exhaustion. “It was gruelling. Truly terrible. Even Minho’s last week wasn’t that hard!”

The Australian’s laugh sounded loud in the small studio the three of them booked out every Sunday night and Minho groaned again when the younger plopped down next to him, making his legs ache for a second. (Especially his left knee for some weird reason – he’d have to put some tiger balm on it later.)

“You two are weak,” Felix joked, making Minho push the other off the stupid bench onto the floor where Hyunjin was.

“Yah! Go back to Australia, get some respect then come back to me,” he deadpanned, glaring teasingly at the freckled boy through the mirror who sat up with a pout on his lips.

“Hyung, that’s bullying,” Felix whimpered, before flopping back down on the ground, but then hitting Hyunjin’s stomach making the black-haired boy yelp in pain before half-heartedly socking the youngest in the shoulder.

Minho snickered at the pair’s antics and looked away from them, choosing his phone over them to give them at least a little bit of privacy.

Ever since the three met four years ago at the same studio, Minho had quickly caught onto the way Felix’s eyes lingered on Hyunjin when his Korean was still questionable, and the way Hyunjin had suddenly wanted to learn more English at the younger’s arrival. (Minho had publicly dubbed him an ‘Aussieboo’ and the only thing that quip had gotten him was a punch in the shoulder.)

And when he met Seungmin a year later and told him all about the two’s ‘adventures of falling in love’ (yes, he had also chosen the name for that), they had made a bet on if they were going to get together one day or not. (The bet was not for money, but rather who had control of the thermostat remote, and thus the apartment’s temperature. As the place was actually in Seungmin’s name, the younger argued he had the ‘full right’ to control over the remote – making the apartment perfect for him, but slightly too warm for Minho’s liking at all times.) Minho, ever the romanticist voted yes, while Seungmin always the one for logic had told him he was stupid and said a hard no.

And so far, to Minho’s misfortune, Seungmin was winning the bet.

“Minho-hyung, are you deaf or something?” Hyunjin’s snide voice interrupted his thoughts and sheepishly Minho glanced back towards the pair, now cuddled together on the floor (he was really going to combust from cuteness overload one day, he swore to god.)

“Hm?”

“I asked,” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows making Minho dread the question even more. “-If you’ve made any more progress with Seungmin.”

Minho almost dropped his phone and stared at the now giggling pair in betrayal.

Three Sunday’s ago, he had made the fatal mistake of telling his two dongsaengs about his small-maybe-not-so-small crush on Seungmin, who they had both only met once.

Now, he really regretted his past self’s tendency to overshare so easily.

“I thought you both promised to never bring that up again,” Minho groaned, his ears turning red at the unexpected mention of his roommate. He fixed a real glare on the two dancers before him and childishly stuck out his tongue. “Seriously, you guys are the worst.”

That just made Hyunjin and Felix laugh harder because he had in fact forgotten he had stuck out his tongue and his half-threat had come out something more like ‘therriously oo guys er the wuhrsht.’

Felix cackled at that and Minho even let a small giggle slip past his lips.

These two dorks would be the death of him.

“One more time?” he asked, looking expectantly at the younger pair.

Now even Felix groaned.

Yet all three of them got back up, turned on Felix’s music and did it again.

_It_ _’_ _s a rare night,_ Minho decided. He glanced over to Seungmin sitting on the other side of the couch, his hoodie string between teeth and eyes wholly engaged on the indie movie he chose in front of him.

He looked back towards the screen and his mind scrambled to catch up on the scene he missed, the scene he had spent staring at his roommate-best-friend-maybe-crush.

Cheekily, he slid his gaze back to the younger’s face, puffy from sleep as he had taken a rare afternoon nap that was ‘against all his fundamental beliefs,’ as Seungmin had once ranted about for a straight ten minutes.

_He looks beautiful in this lighting,_ he thought and instantly cursed himself for the thought and the way his cheeks flushed.

Seungmin, still entranced by the film, of course, didn’t notice Minho’s internal conflict at all.

“I might use some of these ideas in my stories,” Seungmin whispered out, his eyes still enchanted by the screen.

Minho smiled, his heart fluttering. Despite Seungmin’s logical view of the world and blunt personality, he was actually rather artistic. Since they had known each other Seungmin had always been writing little stories; namely, rather-cynical social commentaries rather than the fantasy Minho liked to indulge in, but good work either way.

A small voice in the back of his mind suggested he should go cuddle with the boy, but he dismissed it straight away, the thought almost too real, too intimate.

He turned back to the screen.

They watched the rest of the movie in mutual silence.

“Hyung! Can you do the food today? I’m running late!”

Seungmin’s frustrated nasally voice was the very thing to sour Minho’s new day. Let’s just say neither of them had been having a good morning.

“I’ve done it for the past three days, Min,” Minho bit back, futilely trying to clean his room while Seungmin stomped around in the halls.

“I have my Prac today” Seungmin appeared at the doorway, looking irritated and tousled. “It’s for my grade, I can’t be any later than I already am.”

Minho sighed, still kneeling on the ground with a hoodie in his hands as Seungmin left the bedroom, and upon hearing the front door close, the house too.

A small, hungry mew made him look up and he was met nose-to-nose with Doongie, her ginger pelt spiked up from the palpable tension in the apartment.

“Yes, missy, I’ll get your food” he straightened up, worrying slightly when his joints creaked, and he threw the hoodie back onto his bed, defeated.

Seungmin was more irritable recently – as he was when mock papers always came up.

Minho frowned as he filled two fish-shaped food-bowls, the kibble clanging on the metal too loud in his ears. He knew the younger was busy and stressed and that medical-school was extremely demanding, but it was completely unfair that he had to do most the work, especially when they decided to share the responsibility from day one.

Besides, Seungmin wasn’t the only one running late – he also had the nine-to-three-shift at the sandwich store today, and if he didn’t leave now, he’d have to sprint it to be there for opening on time.

With another sigh (he was glad Chan wasn’t around to hear him, or he’d get an ear-full of how sighing was a symptom of not breathing correctly) he glanced down at the food bowls, blue for Soonie and pink for Doongie.

There was one cat missing.

“Soonie?” he called down the hall, expecting to hear the jittery sound of claws running over tiles at any second.

But there was nothing.

He felt his palms suddenly go clammy.

“Soonie?” he yelled again, striding down the hall to her favourite place on top of the washing machine.

He scanned the sleek white surface for a ball of greying ginger fur, but it wasn’t there.

His heart pounding, almost making him feel sick, he stormed into Seungmin’s bedroom, the force of opening the door knocking Seungmin’s precariously organised stationary off the desk, but he didn’t care, he had to find-

“Soonie!” the breath left his lungs in an instant.

Just next to Seungmin’s teddy bear was a grumpy and tired, but alive old cat.

“Oh my God,” he rushed out, picking her up and burying his nose into the soft mattered fur. “Jesus Soonie, you’ve given me more heart-attacks in the last two weeks than all of last year combined!”

The cat just meowed, probably asking him to stop choking her, but he held on for a little longer before placing her gently back onto the floor.

“C’mon Soonie, I just filled up your food – I swear you’re getting deaf, old lady.”

The cat just mewed again, sounding completely unbothered and unapologetic and when she realised there was food waiting for her, she trotted over to the food-bowl with newfound energy in her steps.

He watched the pair of cats eating with relief.

Then his eyes found the clock on the wall.

_Ten to nine! Shit, I_ _’_ _m going to be so late!_

“Shit, shit, fuck, shit – move Doongie, I need to get my coat, Jesus - shit” he scrambled to grab his uniform almost stepping on his cats’ paws as he awkwardly leapt over them.

“Be good you two!” he called over his shoulder as he raced out the door like how Seungmin had done earlier in a similar fashion.

As he sprinted down the creaky metal stairs, praying today would not be the day they gave up and broke on him, he tried to push the younger from his mind.

The run to work was hellish, and by the time he reached the little shop and café, District Nine, he was ungracefully sweating and seven minutes late.

“Sorry, Jisung,” he apologised hastily as he stumbled through the door, hurriedly closing it behind him so he could have a little bit of time to get into his apron and hat before a customer came in.

“No issue” Jisung replied back, stocking up a shelf and Minho took a second to look at his co-worker; wearing the pale brown matching apron and hat he also owned but was too embarrassed to wear outside (very unlike Jisung who almost constantly donned it.)

“Did Seungmin keep you late again?” Jisung asked, finishing stacking the locally made jam jars and turned back to the sandwich bar.

Minho shrugged off his coat and tied up his apron before dumping his stuff in the small little cubes where the employees placed their belongings during shifts.

He and Jisung had been working together for six months now when the younger had replaced his past shift-mate. Minho, of course, had been sceptical at first about how well the boy could work (and was also slightly attracted to him when he had the amazing dark blue hair that he definitely was not sad that was gone now) but Jisung had proved himself quite the worker.

Although he was extremely talkative and over-dramatic to the point that on eight-hour shifts he usually left with a headache, the boy never complained about doing the bad jobs like cleaning Minho made him do, and more often than not hummed some cute beats while he worked (when he wasn’t yapping Minho’s ear off) that was rather enjoyable.

“Ah, no,” he said finally when he was next to the longer-haired blonde boy, in his uniform over his black turtleneck and slacks. “The cats, actually-”

Just as he was about to elaborate, the tinkling of the bell, marking the entrance of a customer made the pair look up and plaster on smiles for the buyer.

“Uh – I’ll have number seventeen please, but without tomato,” the university student, a girl with doe eyes and soft features ordered and Minho blinked before expertly preparing the sandwich, his hands moving mindlessly.

When she left with another smile that Minho had the audacity to smirk at, which made her blush and then rush away out of the shoppe (he had to do something to make his days interesting, okay?)

“You were going on about the cats?” Jisung asked, leaning against the counter. “What’s their names… Moonie and DongDong?”

“Completely incorrect,” Minho said, disappointed that the younger didn’t know. “And it’s Soonie and Doongie.”

“Right,” Jisung smiled. “But just so you know I think my names are better: rolls of the tongue ya’ know?”

Minho stared at the other, wondering when something stupid wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. And yeah, they held me up this morning” he stated, rearranging some packets of sweets Jisung had thrown messily on the shelf. “Soonie’s getting old, and she didn’t come when I yelled for her, so I freaked out,” he laughed then blushed, embarrassed at his over-sharing tendencies.

“You know what they say,” Jisung started, like Minho would have any actual idea of what he was about to say. “Getting a younger cat can help the older ones get back on their feet. Or paws. Or whatever.”

Minho frowned, pausing in his reorganisation.

Chan had said the exact same thing.

And then Jisung’s mouth fell open.

“Actually, my friend picked up a stray kitten and needs someone to give it to,” Jisung brightened up like he had just thought of the best idea ever. “Please, take it! He has no one to give it to, _and_ he’s allergic, but the animal shelters are _so corrupt_ these days like Bin doesn’t want it to get put down! That would be _terrible_ , cause it’s _just_ a kitten!”

With a wary eye, Minho watched as Jisung stopped talking like his brain was finally starting to catch up with his mouth and turn to him. And then he full-on sprinted at him and clutched onto Minho’s brown apron and put on the poutiest pouty face the whole world could over.

“Please, Minho-hyung?” he begged. “That’s it! I’ll always call you hyung, okay? Even when you’ve put the dark brown coffee beans with the lighter brown coffee beans and _I_ _’_ _m_ the one who has to reorganise it. Although that _is_ annoying though, and then I curse at you when you’re not around and don’t call you hyung-”

“Wait you don’t always call me hyung? I’m older than you!” Minho asked incredulously, attempting to wriggle out of the younger’s somehow super-strength hold. “And I put the dark coffee beans with the lighter ones?”

“Yes,” Jisung rolled his eyes, (finally) letting go like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, to both – I mean no to the first one, cause now I’ll always call you hyung if you-”

“Fine,” Minho lamented, giving in just so he could escape Jisung’s aeygo and begging. “I’ll take it.”

Jisung was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and Minho worriedly glanced over to the boy worried that he had suddenly had a heart attack or stroke, but the boy just stood there with his mouth open again.

“Well, firstly I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, so she’s a she, not an it,” Jisung chattered excitedly and Minho groaned praying that a customer would come in so the younger would be quiet for a second.

But his wishes were never answered.

For the rest of the shift, Jisung blabbered on about how cute the kitten was, how the trip to the vet to get it neutered was, how excited his friend would be to get it out of his apartment and how it had beautiful brown tabby fur. (Minho pointedly ignored the part where Jisung roasted his discerning-light-and-dark-brown from each other and how he would probably just see it as grey or something because now the younger was convinced Minho was colour-blind only to browns.)

Minho just put on his façade of huffing and puffing the whole time, trying not to let the blonde see his fond smile when Jisung switched from topic to topic then back to his original topic.

_He can speak so fast he could be a rapper,_ Minho mused as their shift came to an end and it was time to switch with the other pair.

“Can I bring you her tomorrow?” Jisung asked, referring to their (thankfully) only three-hour-shift the next morning.

Minho thought about his schedule for a second before nodding, untying his apron, then helping Jisung untie his as the younger could never undo it.

“I’ll see you then!” Jisung waved goodbye with a bright smile on his face.

“Bye,” Minho said and watched the younger fade into the masses of Seoul, lost in a crowd of people.

When he was alone, strangers hurrying around him like a river, he let himself sigh.

Without Jisung’s youthful exuberance and chatter, he felt ten years older. He let out a short laugh at that, considering how ironic it was in reference to Jisung’s and Chan’s strikingly similar words, and walked home thinking about his new pet.

_I can_ _’_ _t believe I_ _’_ _ve just adopted a new cat, a kitten for god_ _’_ _s sake,_ he mused as he walked up the outdoor stairs to his shared apartment. When he neared the door, he bit his lip, guilty that he hadn’t even talked about it with his roommate before agreeing, but it was really too late to back out now.

“Seungmin?” he asked when he opened the door. “I’m back!

There was quiet for a few moments and Minho sighed again, glad that he could have some time to think about how he was going to introduce the whole ‘I-just-got-a-new-kitten’ topic before the younger got home.

Right – Seungmin actually had a tutoring class with a high school student from the nearby school – a way of earning income that was (unfairly) at a way higher rate than Minho’s café escapades.

“Hey munchkin,” he bent down to scratch Soonie’s greying chin, where he knew she liked it and laughed at her rumbly purr. “I think you’re going to have a little companion from now one, alright?”

He turned to Doongie who was waiting for her pats. “Now, you little miss brat, can’t be a big meanie to the new kitten alright? I need you on your best behaviour-”

“What’s this?” a voice asked sternly, and Minho snapped his head up in a heartbeat.

Oh crap.

“Min,” he straightened up, ignoring that stupid creak in his knees and he shrugged of his coat. “You’re home early. Don’t you um – tutor now?”

“Did you read the schedule?” Seungmin jived his arms crossed. “I wrote the time I’d be home there last night. Jonkyoo cancelled.”

Minho looked guilty at the fridge, where the cutesy planner he bought resided and did in fact have the neat pen lines of Seungmin’s writing on it.

“Uh, no,” he said, suddenly feeling defensive that Seungmin of all people was chastising him for not having time to read the schedule. “Maybe I would have if you hadn’t bailed on me this morning.”

Seungmin frowned, his eyes dark in the terrible lighting under his circular glasses.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, something he always did when he was frustrated and something that always pissed Minho off. “What’s all this about a ‘little companion?’”

Minho bit his lip, feeling nervous.

“Uh,” he stalled ignoring Doongie pawing at his shoes. “Well, a friend needed help and they had a stray kitten; neutered and everything, and I offered to take it in.”

Seungmin just patronisingly cocked an eyebrow. “ _Seriously,_ Hyung? Why are you so rash in your decisions? Do you think we have the time for a kitten?”

Minho felt indignance and quick anger rush through his whole body, the feeling galvanised from his long shift at work and the stress of the morning. Right. The morning. His whole source of stress that day. And that was Seungmin’s fault.

“Maybe if you did your part and stopped slacking off, we would!” Minho bit back and at Seungmin’s shocked expression, he realised his voice had come out more ragged and louder than he had thought.

Seungmin didn’t speak.

This had been the first time Miho had ever yelled at the younger in their years of knowing one another.

Shit.

“Sorry,” he sighed running a hand through his dark hair. “Sorry Seungmin, I didn’t mean to yell-”

“No, it’s okay,” Seungmin removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It’s my fault too, I should have gotten up earlier to feed the cats; I know you’ve been doing it a lot.”

There were a few awkward seconds of silence as they both stared at each other, Minho in the dark on the entryway while Seungmin almost a silhouette from the living room’s orange light.

“Are you… okay with getting the cat?” Minho asked quietly, afraid of the answer. “I know it was dumb of me to just accept like that but I-”

“We can do it,” Seungmin smiled softly. “As long as I get to name it. We’re in this… together.”

Minho fought back a grin and a blush that threatened to spread across his cheeks, hearing his heart beat in his ears.

“Yeah, Min, okay.”

Excluding Seungmin, the tabby kitten was the cutest thing Lee Minho had ever seen.

Even Seungmin had cooed when Minho opened to a cardboard box (with breathing holes in it, of course, safety was important) to reveal a soft ball of tabby fur.

“Dori,” is what Seungmin decided when the three of them (meaning himself, the kitten, and Seungmin; Doongie and Soonie had been banished to the bathroom) cuddled on the couch watching Finding Nemo.

“With an ‘i?’” Minho asked with a small smirk on his face.

Seungmin took a moment to respond; odd for the usually witty younger.

“Yeah,” he had said looking away from Minho’s face like it was the plague. “With an ‘i.’”

Dori had seemed to smooth out the edges of their slightly unsure relationship after their half-fight the previous night. She played with the toys Soonie and Doongie were too old and lazy to play with (Seungmin had pretended not to have brought a little Eeyore for her brand new, and Minho knowing he hated looking soft and being called out, decided not to mention it) and was overall some sort of glue.

The only bad thing was that apart from the initial movie night, Minho had done some research on how to make kittens feel at ease in moving to a new place, and all articles he read advised keeping her in the bathroom for a week until she calmed down.

Soonie and Doongie were rather happy with this arrangement, although they pawed the bathroom door to try and get it open so they could investigate the new addition to their little ‘family.’ (Minho said that ‘f’ word one night by accident. Seungmin had blushed and pushed him off the couch. Minho still didn’t really know what that meant, but he did know that Seungmin liked calling their situation a family, as he said the very same thing the next day.)

Soon enough, it had been time for Dori to move out of the bathroom and meet the gingers. Doongie had been a brat as per usual, hissing and whining the whole time, but Soonie had curled up beside the kitten and cared for her, almost like a mother would.

“They’re cute,” Seungmin had said one night as they sat together on the couch, looking up from his laptop.

Minho smiled at the other and then pretended he was looking at the three now cuddling cats. His mind screamed three daring words for him to say. _You are too._

“Yeah,” he agreed, his heartbeat starting to pick up as he felt Seungmin’s thigh brush his. “They are.”

Seungmin was quiet for a second and closed his laptop. “Hey Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think…” the younger started, looking nervous.

Minho bit his lip and turned back to Seungmin, whose cheeks were starting to blush. He felt his skin grow hot. Was Seungmin… going to say something about… them? Their… kinda-cute-kinda-odd friendship-relationship?

“Hyung… Do you think I should join a writing club?”

Minho paused.

“Y-Yeah, Min! Yes!” he exclaimed, a smile growing on his face. “Of course! That’s great!”

Although it wasn’t exactly the words Minho was wanting to hear, it was damn near close.

He knew Seungmin was a great writer; bringing up societal issues and creating rather terrifying dystopian futures that shocked anyone who read it. But, due to Seungmin’s hesitance to show his works to anyone, Minho had been the only one to be astounded by it.

For two whole years, he’d been trying to convince Seungmin to show his works to other people and join some sort of literature group and for two whole years, Seungmin had said a big fat no.

Minho took a moment to revel at Seungmin’s blushed face, giggling at how easily embarrassed he got.

“It’s just I heard about this club at my campus,” the boy continued, bashful. “It’s on Friday’s so I was wondering if you were okay to look after the three over there if I went to it?”

Minho nodded and gave the younger a full-on hug until he was basically sprawled on top of the boy, Seungmin trapped lying down of the couch.

“Yes, of course! Proud of you Min! I’ve been badgering you to join one of these writing clubs for ages-”

“I know, I know,” Seungmin laughed, the sound music to Minho’s ears. “And for the first time ever you were right. It’ll be good to focus a little on my writing now that my mocks are over.”

Minho cheered again, shifting his weight off Seungmin’s chest and onto his arms until he was staring into Seungmin’s eyes. The younger’s breath was warm on his neck, his lips plump and soft.

_I could just kiss him right now,_ Minho realised, entranced by the thought.

He looked back into Seungmin’s eyes one more time. They were glassy, a little nervous and filled with something Minho didn’t quite know.

Something pooled at the bottom on his stomach, electrifying him from the tips of his toes to his top heart.

Slowly, so Seungmin could pull away at any time, he leaned in and-

_Crash!_ Minho flinched at the loud noise, his nose bumping into Seungmin’s forehead and he dug his hands into the couch out of fear.

Now really buried into Seungmin’s chest, he blinked open an afraid eye.

And there he saw Doongie sitting politely next to a broken lamp like nothing had happened.

He let out a sigh of relief, then remembering his compromising position, quickly scrambled off the younger boy, clearing his throat.

Seungmin seemed uncomfortable too, and just sat up, and got off the couch to clean up the mess. Minho’s heart thundered erratically, his cheeks turning the same colours as Seungmin’s ones in embarrassment.

Oh my god, what had he done?! Tried to kiss Seungmin?! What an idiot!

“I’m just uh – going to head to bed,” Minho fumbled out when Seungmin returned to the couch. “I’m… tired. Good job for the um – writing club thing.”

And before Seungmin could reply, he was in his bedroom, internally screaming into a pillow.

He went to bed feeling a mix of lost, confused, embarrassed and regretful.

Regretful not because he had tried it, but because he hadn’t done more.

That thought was what haunted him until he fell asleep.

The next morning Seungmin acted like nothing had happened.

Minho did the same.

He went to work feeling more confused than ever.

Seungmin met someone at his writing club, and despite Minho’s initial encouragement for the younger to attend, now he wasn’t quite so sure.

The problem wasn’t Seungmin, of course. It was the twinge in his stomach – a small little green flame constantly burning inside of him.

“Changbin-hyung is an _amazing_ writer,” Seungmin gushed his eyes are sparkly the way they were when he was rambling on something, he was passionate about. “He creates these worlds just – _so different_ to anything I’ve ever been able to _imagine!_ And his use of character and tone is _just_ -”

Minho just hummed for the twentieth time that evening. The evening was supposed to be a good one – Minho had just had one of his final business assignments due and (even though he pretended he didn’t care about the subject at all, and _did_ hate it, hence leaving it to the last week to complete it) he’d spent every night at the university’s library completing it.

Therefore, because of this studying, he and Seungmin had no time for their nightly movie and television watching sessions, so tonight Minho had _promised_ he’d spent it with the younger. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realised spending it with the younger would entail so much talk about this ‘Changbin.’

“You’re not listening, are you?”

Minho spluttered, embarrassed to be called out, but when he turned to face Seungmin the younger did not look offended; just amused.

That amusement and overall good mood was a rather strange, but certainly welcome new constant with Seungmin these days. Ever since he attended his first writing club meet a month ago, he was in a more creative and overall ‘warm’ mood.

So, despite the jealousy that burned every time he brought up Seo Changbin, someone Seungmin had almost become _obsessed with_ it seemed, Minho was still happy the younger attended.

“Sorry,” Minho apologised anyway. “Felix and Hyunjin tired me out at dance today.”

Seungmin nodded, understanding with a gentle laugh. “How’s the bet coming along? I’m still winning, right?”

Minho groaned and pet Dori’s fur that was starting to lose its kitten-fluff with age. “Yes, Minnie, you are – _but_ Felix _literally_ forgot the choreo because Hyunjin was wearing one of those skater-singlet things today – and he’s been working out like _hell_ recently and his biceps are getting insane.”

“Should I be jealous?”

Eyes wide, Minho faltered and turned to stare at Seungmin again. The younger was overly honest and confident with his words sure, maybe slightly-abrasive even, but provocative? No.

Seungmin however, also seemed to realise what he had said, flushed that same cute red, and snapped his eyes onto the television screen.

“I didn’t mean that,” Seungmin affirmed quickly; slightly awkward.

Minho swallowed and resumed petting Dori at her meow. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

They watched the advertisements is mutual silence and Minho cursed himself for not being braver – for not snapping back with a flirty quip he used on strangers at bars like ‘ _wouldn’t mind if you were,_ ’ or ‘ _if we were the seven deadly sins you can be envy and I’ll be lust – for you.’_

(Okay, admittedly that last one wasn’t his best work. But the thing was Seungmin wasn’t a stranger at a bar he’d hook up with and then never see again. Seungmin was _so much more_ that it scared him. Besides, the younger wasn’t really one for Minho’s one-liners, so it was pretty useless to brainstorm a few up anyway.)

He wasn’t expecting it when his phone started to ring – no one ever called him this late.

Frowning, Seungmin doing the same thing from his peripheral vision it seemed, he shifted his weight on the couch to get his buzzing phone out of his sweatpants’ pocket.

He checked the caller ID before accepting. _What?_

Quickly he motioned for Seungmin, who was holding the remote to mute their show and he raised the phone to his ear.

“Chan-hyung?”

“ _Minho?_ ” the Australian’s voice came through.

“Yeah?”

There was silence on the other side of the line.

Then a muffled cough. _“I was just wondering if you’re free.”_

Minho paused, an unsure smile pulling at his lips. “Free when?”

Chan didn’t answer for another second and Minho pulled the phone away from his ear, wondering if the connection was bad. _“Free now.”_

Okay, Minho was definitely not expecting that. “W-What?”

_“Free,”_ the elder repeated, somehow sounding more and less sure of himself at the same time. _“I know this is uh – kinda weird, but I just got stood up on a date and still have a booking for ‘Korea’s finest’ Western restaurant if I quote the advertisement correctly.”_

Minho felt his jaw drop. _“You_ got stood up?!”

_“Yeah,”_ came Chan’s gentle laugh. _“Was wondering if you wanted to come instead.”_

Minho glanced at the clock. It was only nine, now, if he hurried, he could make it…

But… Seungmin. He had promised…

“Sorry, Chan-hyung,” he began sadly, looking over at Seungmin as he apologised. “I promised I’d spend the night with Min.”

Chan went quiet for a second, and Minho feared he had offended him, but the next time he spoke was full of laughter. _“Can’t believe I’ve been stood up twice on the same night.”_

Minho chuckled then too, albeit feeling slightly bad for making the elder’s night a little worse. “Next time I’ll be there to save the day, alright? Let’s go to ‘Korea’s finest’ Western food, yeah?”

Chan’s chortle was all he needed to reassure himself that the Australian was fine. _“Sure, Minho, I’ll see you in class alright? Don’t be late!”_

“You got it,” Minho dead-panned but couldn’t stop the smile on his face. “Hope your night gets marginally better, Hyung.”

And with that, he hung up the phone.

“Chan-ssi, huh?” Seungmin’s voice cut through the silence.

Minho wasn’t sure why, but his skin prickled at what seemed like some sort of interrogation; or a veiled accusation. “Yeah. He’s alright – just got stood up though.”

Seungmin hummed and turned on the television, but to both of their detriment, the show was at ads.

“So,” Minho started, eager to move the conversation on. “How’s med?”

And for the rest of the night they talked about mundane topics; from Dori’s feeding intake to Seungmin’s exams coming up in two months to Minho’s failed business test (oops) and back again.

It was a conversation of words with no feeling, no true meaning. Just saying everything that equated to nothing.

Minho went to bed feeling oddly dissatisfied and wondered if Seungmin felt it too.

From that night, even despite Seungmin’s amorous joke, (Joke? Freudian slip? Minho wasn’t sure what it was – he had tried to analyse it the night of, but the weight on his heart had distracted him from drawing to any plausible conclusion) and Chan’s call, it felt like something had changed.

Minho didn’t try to be interested when the younger talked about Changbin’s “terrific” writing, just zoned out (and sure did Seungmin talk about ‘Changbin’ – Friday nights quickly became his least favourite time of the week – even worse than Wednesdays.)

The baseless and insignificant small-talk conversations they shared didn’t seem so special as Minho had once thought them to be. Before he’d lap up every word, think about it and keep all the best information in his brain until he could bring it up to Seungmin again and gain more and more knowledge. But now, talking of such futile things like grades and cats (even though he did love them whole-heartedly) just didn’t seem… so remarkable.

His crush-thing wasn’t fading, by any means – his breath still got caught in his throat if their fingers touched, and his heart still raced if he made a joke that Seungmin laughed at – it was just, the other ninety-nine percent of their talking was so… casual.

He had realised they never _really_ talked. Not about the important things – not since they had first met and moved in together. Not anything deep about their insecurities and aspirations and anything…

Silence would be more of a statement than what they teetered on.

Business class, something he once dreaded became something he looked forward to. So did work. Both Chan and Jisung were quite separate from Seungmin, neither have met him before, so the time he had with the two sunshine-like constantly cheery people, the better.

He had once tried to explain his situation Felix and Hyunjin on Sundays, but the pair just glanced at him confused.

_(“Wait so you do or don’t like him anymore?” Hyunjin had asked, shaking his head like trying to recover from a dizzy spell._

_“I do,” Minho had emphasised, slumping back on the mirrored wall. “I just realised since I developed this crush on him, and before that even, we don’t talk! About anything! All he talks about is Seo-fucking-Changbin. Besides, the only time we did was when I got Dori without telling Seungmin and we yelled at each other for five seconds and it sucked!”_

_“Fighting is completely normal in a rela- I mean friendship,” Felix had stammered and smiled meekly at Minho’s glare for screwing up his words. “We argue all the time – about dance, to music, to Hyunjin’s smelly socks and what drink is best. And we’re great friends.”_

_Hyunjin had looked a little sour at Felix’s word ‘friends’ but Minho sighed, not having the energy to do anything about it. “I don’t know, I feel like shit when I’m around him and even worse when I’m not – because he hasn’t done anything wrong. I have. I am.”_

_The three were quiet for a few moments._

_“Maybe you…” Hyunjin started then, looking hesitant. “Maybe you need to like… move out?”_

_Minho had sat up at that. ”What?”_

_“Move out,” Felix had agreed, albeit sadly. “Like I remember when I first came here and lived with my cousin? We bickered all the time before I moved into the Uni accommodation and our relationship really improved after that - although I gotta’ say it was pretty legendary before.”_

_Minho shook his head, slumping against the mirror again. “I can’t move out, guys.”_

_Hyunjin had looked less pensive than he did before, his eyes sharp. “Then move on.”)_

Move on. What a funny thing. A funny thing that Minho couldn’t do either.

They were sitting on the couch, ready for their daily television session when Seungmin found a movie, one he had seen before was excited about, chattering on and on about and Minho didn’t have the heart to pay attention.

Minho frowned at the description, wondering if the younger had selected the right one from the titles screen.

A romantic drama. Not usually the other’s cup of tea.

Minho wondered why he had chosen it.

As the night went on, and the film rolled by, Minho realised the movie was somewhat like his own predicament. It was about two lovers who bordered on secrets in the dark and friends in the day. About when the line was crossed from friends to more; a romance.

About how to uncross it in Person A’s perspective. How to continue crossing it for Person B.

At night they argued, and cried, and fucked. In the day they barely talked – Person A trying to get as far away from Person B until they returned home and argued, and cried, and fucked.

His heart keened with empathy. Because the thing was with him and Seungmin is that they never said anything. Never brought up uncomfortable moments, never discussed their close calls to kisses or moments Minho was sure were filled with a tension he wasn’t imagining. Every time they just swept it under the rug and moved on.

And by now, that rug had to be the size of Antarctica. Or maybe the whole globe.

And it was because he was never brave enough, too scared if he did their friendship that thrived on ignorance of the possibility of _something more_ would crumble and disappear.

And he couldn’t lose Seungmin; the way his eyes lit up and turned to crescents when he was happy, the way his cheeks turned red so easily at a simple tease or flirty joke.

The way he hated mopping the bathroom but loved organising his desk into a colour-coded array of stationery, notes and paperclips that seemed so tedious but brought him so much joy.

The way he stuck to routine like gum to a shoe – putting on the extremely expensive moisturiser he had bought for himself when he passed his first medical exam daily and gasping when Minho told the only thing he did to his skin was shower with the cheapest soap possible.

The way he sometimes pretended to hate the cats but would buy them toys and talk to them in a cute high-pitched voice when he thought Minho wasn’t in the room over.

The way he knew everything, but also nothing at the same time.

If he lost that, then it was like losing a part of himself.

So, he never brought it up – the way his heart fluttered when Seungmin made a sarcastic remark and then looked at him like he was the moon; the way his hands went clammy every time he made tea for the younger and prayed he got it right and then and Seungmin’s approving nod felt like his whole body would explode.

And he realised that this wasn’t a small-maybe-not-so-small crush anymore, or even a fitful exploration of homosexuality towards his friend.

This was something more powerful, something that filled him with light if something went right and darkness if even the smallest thing went wrong; something he couldn’t ignore for much longer.

The resolution of the movie was a happy one. Person A eventually fell in love with Person B. Person B was happy and proposed.

The credits rolled.

He glanced over to Seungmin as they sat on the couch together in front of a movie like he had done millions of times before.

He opened his mouth.

_Speak! Speak! Speak!_

And then closed it again.

He turned back to the television, which was now black, and felt a hopelessness like never before.

Seungmin didn’t notice like always. In his mind, Minho wasn’t sure if he wanted the younger to or not.

In his heart, however, Minho knew.

And that scared him more.

Soonie was getting old. Her legs creaked like his left one did, her fur was starting to become dull and brittle.

He tried to bring it up with Seungmin, but the elder barely showed any emotion.

“ _It’s just life,_ ” he had said with a non-committal shrug of his shoulders and then turned back to the television.

For one of the first times since knowing him, Minho felt anger towards the other.

Each time Soonie took a fall, or refused to eat, he was always the one to reorganise his life, and rush her to the local veterinarian, his heart racing in fears and mind whirling with ‘what if’s’ every time.

Each time he took her, then waited in the waiting room, he always numbly observed the others with him.

A mother and daughter with a lizard, an elderly couple with a cat, two university-aged friends with a snake, and a newly-wed couple (Minho could tell by the way the girl constantly fiddled with her ring and the guy looked at her like she was his everything) with their puppy.

He noticed that he was different from these people. Because he was always alone.

Seungmin had never come to the vet clinic to support him, not once – actually Chan had once instead when Doongie ate a marble a year ago.

But Seungmin; never.

And that made him think.

One night, Minho hung out with Jisung after work, a spontaneous offer by the younger and one Minho, surprising himself, took.

The chatter-box roasted his ‘colour-blindness’ once again, asked about the cats, and talked about himself for a while. (He started writing music at fourteen, then came back to South Korea from Malaysia to audition for idol agencies. He got accepted into JYP(!) but decided he’d rather write and produce because firstly he hated the dancing he never ‘got down’ and secondly, he got really anxious around large crowds and the training started to impact his mental health. He went to university near Minho’s own; actually, the one Seungmin went to.)

Even though it was mundane, normal questions and conversation, Minho couldn’t help but feel intrigued. The night went well, and Minho promised that they’d do it again.

He caught the bus back home, feeling more ordinary than he had in a while. There was something about public transport at night, he decided, something unique and yet monotonous. He liked it.

When he got home, he searched in his pocket for his keys and freaked out when they weren’t there. Just as he was about to completely panic, Jisung called.

_“Hey, Minho-hyung,”_ the younger greeted and Minho pinched his brow, pacing outside his door.

“Yes?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strained.

_“I’ve got your keys. They must have fallen out of your pocket.”_

Minho clutched his chest in relief. “Ah, okay, thank god.”

_“I can give them to you tomorrow if you want,”_ Jisung chirped easing his final stages of anxiety.

Minho hummed, remembering that they were in fact on morning shift the next day. “Yes, thanks, Sung.”

He hung up before Jisung could ramble about his new nickname, and feeling much happier, knocked on the door.

“Seungmin! It’s me! I uh – left my keys at work.”

Okay, a lie, but Seungmin would just lecture him about being irresponsible and even if it was well-deserved, he wasn’t feeling it.

What he didn’t expect was an unfamiliar face to greet him.

Immediately his good mood vanished. “Uh – hello?”

“Ah, you must be Minho-ssi,” the boy, who looked maybe a year younger than himself with a long triangular face and hooded eyes bowed and Minho uncomfortably returned the sentiment. “I’m Seo Changbin, Seungmin’s friend, it’s nice to meet you.”

Minho felt his heart lurch, and the fire in his stomach reignite. He frowned, opened his mouth to ask a question-

“Minho-hyung!” Seungmin appeared at the door, in a mood so opposite to Minho’s own. “This is Changbin-hyung, sorry I didn’t tell you he was coming over – it was a spontaneous kind of thing.”

Minho raised his eyebrows and Changbin seemed to notice his irritation. Sure, his and Jisung’s dinner had been spontaneous but this? Inviting someone over without telling him? It was bordering on insane, _especially_ for ever-organised stick-to-the-calendar Seungmin.

Still, he had to at least pretend to be polite. “It’s uh – good to see you Changbin-nim. You’re very welcome.”

The boy’s expression – one of narrowed-eyed thoughtfulness – didn’t change. “Thanks.”

“We’re making popcorn!” Seungmin announced once again oblivious to the slowly building tension at the doorway. “Do you want to watch a movie with us, Hyung? It’s American.”

At once it felt like his heart was speared like a dumb fish. Movies. That was _their_ thing.

“I’m fine,” he replied, gently pushing past Changbin who was still at their fucking doorway- “Close the door, please. You’re letting the warm air escape.”

Changbin did as he was told with a nod.

“So, Hyung?” Seungmin advanced, stepping away from the popping popcorn to meet his eyes. “Want to watch it with us?”

Minho felt his speared heard bleed out. “I’m okay, Min – I have homework tonight.”

Seungmin pouted then turned away. “That’s alright, another time then.”

Minho hoped there wouldn’t be another time with Changbin in the apartment but kept it to himself.

He said goodbye to the other with a small nod and escaped to his bedroom. He put on his headphones full volume to block out the sound one of the Marvel movies Changbin had seemingly brought, and the sound of Seungmin’s airy laugh.

God, he couldn’t listen to that all night. Seungmin’s soft, gentle chuckle – the sound elicited not from him, but from Seo-damn-Changbin.

He got his phone out of his pocket and jumped onto his bed, the soft duvet barely giving him comfort.

But he knew the very thing that would – calling Felix and Hyunjin.

Quickly he scrolled through his contacts and hit Felix’s name. He waited as it dialled.

Then, a muffled voice, _“Hello? M-Minho-hyung?”_

Minho frowned at the Australian’s question – surely, he read the caller ID. “Yeah, Lix it’s me.”

The younger seemed out of breath for some reason, and distantly he heard a familiar voice in the background yelling _“who is it?”_

Minho held the phone closer to his ear. “Who’s that?”

_“W-What?”_ Felix asked, and Minho hated how he could hear the guilt in the Australian’s voice. (The younger only stuttered if he was nervous or lying. In this circumstance Minho assumed a mix of the both.)

“Lix,” he started, torn between amusement and betrayal. “You’re with Hyunjin? I’m sure I just heard him – and you guys are at the studio yeah? _That’s_ why you sound so puffed – I’ll pack a bag and come right ov-”

_“We’re, I mean, I’m not at the studio, Hyung,”_ Felix interrupted, and Minho stopped rolling off his bed mid-action.

He paused as he attempted to process the younger’s words. “Huh?”

Felix didn’t answer for another moment and the distant and muffled sound of Hyunjin yet again came across the line. _“I’m at Hyunjin’s.”_

Minho sat up, still confused. The Marvel movie’s crashes of what he could only guess was an action scene bled through the bedroom wall.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, the Australian’s admission finally catching up with him. “Oh – uh – that’s okay. I was just calling because-”

He cut himself off. If he said the real reason why he called – that being he was feeling alone and sad because Seungmin was so infatuated with Changbin he barely existed – and now with the news, Hyunjin and Felix were having a little night together without inviting him, he’d just look like an idiot.

“-I was just calling… for no reason,” he finished up, a strange emotion, not the envy from before, but dejectedness, settling on his heart. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Felix seemed to hear the pure _loneliness_ in his voice because he quickly changed tactic; _“Hey, wait, y-you can come over, Hyunjin and I were just – I-I mean we_ weren’t doing anything _, just um – chilling, so you can come, Jinnie won’t mind.”_

Minho felt his eyes widen until they were as big as the moon, the cogs whirring in his brain until they clicked into place.

Felix. Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s place. Together. Alone. At night. Felix’s nervous stutter, him hyperactively correcting himself constantly, the way the boy was just slightly out of breath…

Oh, fuck.

“Nah,” Minho quickly answered, hoping his voice wasn’t as high and scratchy as he thought it was. (It was. Like Felix he wasn’t the best at hiding his shock.) “I’m all good here – got a test comin’ up.”

Felix was quiet again and Minho prayed the Australian wouldn’t insist he come over – the last thing he needed today was to be a… a ‘cockblock’ _as well_ as a downer _and_ a jealous asshole.

“Alright, Hyung,” Felix relented. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

He barely had time to answer before the beep that the call had ended sounded dully in his ear.

He tossed the phone back onto his bed defeated. Sure, maybe he’d won the bet with Seungmin if his assumptions were correct, but he didn’t feel like a victor at all.

He felt like complete and utter shit.

Needing to distract himself, for one of the first times that month he opened his business textbook, his own mostly empty notebook and got the photos of Chan’s notes on his phone.

It was his most productive night of studying since high school.

Now he didn’t want to be a Person A or anything, but he felt himself actively drifting away from Seungmin as the month went on. It was the small things;

_“I’m going to get something from the corner store, you want anything?”_

_“Soonie’s acting odd again, I’m going to take her to the vet – be back in a bit.”_

_“I took another shift, so I won’t be back for a movie, sorry!”_

And yet, Seungmin was seemingly out of his oblivious daze. Minho ignored the way the younger’s eyes tracked onto him when he walked from room to room until he was back to his bedroom. Minho pretended he didn’t notice the way Seungmin tried to sit closer to him on the couch but moved defeatedly when Minho pushed him away.

What hurt the most was overhearing Seungmin’s confused statement of _“I don’t know what I did wrong”_ when the younger called Jeongin one evening instead of their movie.

Minho had gone to bed and lied there for a very long time. Not even Dori’s purrs or Doongie’s uncharacteristic snuggling (maybe she was sensing his sadness) made him feel better.

He searched up accommodation near him but threw his phone against the wall with a frustrated groan.

He couldn’t leave. Then he’d have to explain. And, besides, he didn’t _want_ to leave.

But then what did he do?

What did he do?

“Changbin recommended me this book and it’s in stock at the bookstore near your dance studio,” Seungmin started one evening and Minho felt his irritation spike. “Do you want to come-“

“Nah,” Minho interrupted, bitter at the mention of the person he decided he (admittedly rather unfairly) hated.

Seungmin’s cheeks flushed red. “Why?”

Minho glanced away from the television. God he was tired – this was the last thing he needed. He got yelled at and coffee dumped on him at work by a pissed customer and he still reeked of shit.

Make matters worse his father had called him about his Business grades that ‘weren’t good enough’ and threatened to stop paying altogether. (It looked like one productive night of studying hadn’t solved his months-of-not-paying-attention-in-lectures problem. Who would have thought?)

Coupled with that his left knee had ached all day and no amount of creams and tiger balm had healed it.

Of course, Seungmin didn’t know of any of these shit-storm events because he never asked.

Minho sighed and ran a hand through his hair (still sticky with fucking sugar-).

“I’m tired, okay?” he punctured out through gritted teeth. “Can _you not_ , right now?!”

Silence.

Seungmin’s face turned red, almost an ugly purple like beetroot. “You’re being _such_ a fucking _asshole,_ Hyung.”

And he got up and left.

Minho heard the door of the younger’s bedroom door slam and still blankly watching the television he felt his eyes fill with tears.

Soonie looked up at him in confusion her eyes old.

He stared back and pretended the cold wetness he felt on his face wasn’t tears.

And then he was mad again.

Determined to not take his own internal frustrations out on Seungmin _again_ (God, he was a terrible friend, Seungmin probably hated him now and he deserved it-) he got up, scaring Soonie, and shoved a drink bottle, his phone, his wallet and a jacket into his backpack.

He scurried down the creaky metal stairs and half hoped they would break beneath him so he could end his suffering, and into the night, the cold wind whipping his cheeks.

He had a destination in mind; a place he could take out all his anger and jealously in a way that wouldn’t hurt anyone, a place that was his utopia.

When he arrived twenty minutes later, barely remembering the walk there, he pushed open the door and slammed down his wallet.

“Studio three. Six hours.”

The receptionist, a guy who Minho knew quite well, took a look at his face and quickly scanned the card. “It’s all yours. Tell me if you need anything.”

Minho left without a goodbye.

As soon as he reached his paradise – the smooth wooden floors, the mirrors the lights he decided to keep off, he sighed. The place was like a haven, and he almost felt guilty bringing all his anger to this place – a room that he Felix and Hyunjin shared.

But he didn’t have time for guilt. He was here to do something, and it certainly wasn’t to feel.

He turned on his most electronic, bass-heavy angsty music he found on his playlist full volume. And then he danced.

An hour in, he was going strong; fuelled by adrenaline, regret and frustration.

The second hour he was slowing down, resting between bursts of flurried movements for deep, aching breaths.

The third hour his shirt clung to him, sticky (like the coffee, like the coffee-) and miserable as he forced his body to cooperate.

The fourth hour was when it all went wrong.

His left knee had been protesting since the beginning – not just the start of the session, or the day or even the week. It had been a strange ache – an odd joint click when he crouched down for months now.

He had been a master at ignoring it – at pretending it was age or something else as easy to dismiss.

It wasn’t easy to dismiss when suddenly something sickeningly ‘popped’ and it felt like his whole leg was set on fire.

_“Fuck!”_ he snapped, immediately going down to the floor with a helpless crash.

“Shit, shit, shit-” he wheezed as his body started to tremble on the floor in a pile of his own sweat, aching, and burning, and exploding and-

Nothing.

He blinked his eyes open again what felt like seconds later. His face was pressed to the floor and the cooling sensation made him feel the calmest he had been all day.

Where was he again? What had he done today? Ah yes, the coffee incident, his parents, the fight, the studio, his knee – his knee, _holy fuck,_ his knee-

Pain.

“Help me-” he rasped out, but the music, the stupid bass-boosted music he had turned on drowned out his cries. “Help me, dear God, someone fucking help me-!”

Nothing.

Forcing himself to move ( _move, move, move, move-)_ he awkwardly crawled over to his bag, in too much pain to care he looked like a dying cat. Rolling onto his back, gasping with exertion, he hurriedly clicked onto his contact with shaking fingers.

He wheezed deep, quick breaths as the phone rang, sweat trickling into his eyes as he lied in the slick floor, praying someone would pick up.

_“Hyung?”_ came the voice and Minho had never felt more pleased and more pained in his life.

“Hyunjin-” he gasped out. “I fucked up, I can’t move, my l-leg, m-my leg-”

_“Where are you?”_ came Hyunjin’s pointed voice and in the background, Minho heard the sound of keys, car keys, against a table.

“Dance,” Minho choked out, groaning as he attempted to move his knee. “I’ve really fucked it up this time.”

_“Stay there, keep talking to me – wait – I’ll call Ralph, alright? Don’t move-”_

And the line cut off. Right. Ralph. The receptionist.

He had always had a stupid foreign name Minho could never remember.

He let himself close his eyes as the door barged open and the music stopped abruptly. There were hands on his body, poking and prodding at his neck, his spine, his waist and his knee – _fuck,_ his knee, his knee, his knee, his knee-

Nothing.

He woke up again in a hospital.

Felix’s face was the first thing he saw.

“Welcome back to the real world,” the freckled boy said with an obviously strained but wobbly smile.

Minho groaned and sunk his head into the soft pillows behind him. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Felix agreed, with a sigh – seemingly giving up his ‘happy’ act. “You could have done irreversible damage to your knee, Hyung. What were you _doing?”_

Minho ran a hand through his hair. God, he was tired.

“Lix, not now,” another voice cut through and Minho frowned. That wasn’t Hyunjin. Or Seungmin for that matter.

He craned his neck to look and laughed at how ridiculous everything was getting. Maybe it was the painkillers because he was pretty sure he was hallucinating.

“ _Channie-hyung?_ Are you here or am I imagining it?”

“I’m here, Minho,” Chan offered a dimpled smile but looked more run-down that Minho had seen him in a long time.

_That’s my fault…_

“Wha’ you doing here?” he asked instead of repenting.

Chan and Felix both frowned.

“Did he hit his head?” Felix asked and from the waver in his voice, Minho could tell it wasn’t a joke; but worry.

“No, no, no,” he attempted to reassure, sitting up slightly. “I’m just… confused – how do you know Chan?”

Felix looked somewhere between exasperated and about to freak out. “He’s my cousin, Hyung!”

Minho felt his jaw drop. “F-For _real?”_

“Yes, for real,” Felix didn’t seem amused.

“I’m going to the vending machines,” Chan said, slightly too loud and a little out of place, but with that same dorky dimpled smile that could charm anyone. “Want anything?”

Felix shook his head with that same strained smile. Minho just whispered out a quick, but grateful _“no.”_

Chan excused himself.

And then Hyunjin came in.

One look at the younger’s face told him that he, Lee Minho, was completely fucked.

“You are _really_ fucking stupid, Hyung,” was the first thing the other dancer said.

Minho had the decency to feel ashamed, but slightly thankful that Chan had left the room, so he didn’t have to feel _even more_ embarrassed. “Will it recover?”

Hyunjin sagged into a waiting chair. “Thank god, it will. Patellofemoral pain syndrome. Heard of it?”

Minho thought back to his time in actual dance courses and the long-winded name sounded vaguely familiar. “Think so.”

“You won’t need surgery,” Felix chimed in, his face tired. “But… the doctor said this is a ‘long-term’ kinda injury; eight-weeks maybe. As in, the breakdown of your nerve tissue and shit happens over time – it was probably just your fall that made it so bad. Was your… knee hurting like… before?”

Minho bit his lip. The clicking, the sudden pain if he stood up after sitting for too long, the rest breaks he had to take some nights when dancing… it was all starting to make sense…

His silence was answer enough.

“If you told us we could have avoided all of this,” Hyunjin sighed and Minho felt that rage, that rage from the previous night with Seungmin channel through him once again.

_“_ Don’t you think _I know that?”_ he gritted out trying and failing once again to sit up.

_“Why_ did you even go there anyway?” Hyunjin got off the chair. Took a step towards him.

“Because I was _pissed off!”_ he snapped in retaliation, huffing as he strained to successfully sit up from his hospital bed.

“You could have _called_ us. Hyunjin and I are always here to help you-” Felix protested, on Hyunjin’s side, because _of course,_ he was on _Hyunjin’s fucking side-_

“Maybe if you stopped _sucking_ his _dick_ , Felix, _you_ would see that _my_ life isn’t that fucking simple!”

And that was it. The cat was out of the bag. The dynamite was lit.

The faucet of Felix’s eyes was turned on.

Minho watched as a tear, a tear he had caused, fell down the Australian’s face.

“Screw you.”

And then Felix ran out.

His rage dying like a flame without fuel, he looked towards Hyunjin. The younger looked madder than he had ever seen him.

In one swift step, the boy was at his bed, a fist clenching his hospital gown’s collar and pulling it taught.

Minho felt a sliver of fear rush through him as Hyunjin, who was definitely stronger than him and could defiantly knock him out, leaned over him looking like an angry bull, clawing his shirt and pulling his weight up into the tense air.

“Pull yourself together,” was all the other gritted out, before slamming Minho back down onto his hospital bed, and leaving out the door.

Minho forced himself to suck in a breath. Then out. In, out. His back hurt from Hyunjin’s force; his knee ached.

The hospital machines were all he could hear. The stiff fabric and cold metal of the hospital bed were all he could feel.

In, out. In, out.

A knock startled him.

“Seungmin?” he whispered hopefully but instead he was met with Chan’s face; the elder standing at the doorway like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Minho tried not to feel disappointed.

“Chan-hyung,” he forced a smile. “You can come in.”

The Australian did; took a seat next to his bed.

Minho painfully eyed the four bottles of water he had brought with him.

“I got these,” Chan explained himself, looking uncharacteristically unconfident. “But… I guess there’s more for you now, huh?”

Minho swallowed. “You saw what happened?”

“Heard more like it,” Chan explained, honest. “Do you want me to go after them?”

Minho shook his head, feeling sorry for himself. “No. I think I should give them some time.”

Chan was quiet, carefully unscrewing the water bottle cap and giving it to him. Minho accepted it with a hum; the cold water soothing his throat.

He sighed, out of breath, when he finished half the bottle in one gulp.

“I fucked up,” he admitted, chuckling bitterly at the last time he said those three exact words – not even two hours ago. “Again.”

“Hey,” Chan said softly, taking his hand in his. “Everything will figure itself out. I’m here for you, okay?”

Minho felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of his hand in Chan’s larger one, then more at the sincerity in the elder’s deep eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I hope it will.”

Seungmin picked him up the next morning when he was discharged, his face stern but his eyes concerned.

Minho didn’t ask how or where he got the car from, just sat in the passenger seat and looked blankly out the window.

And that was that.

When Minho returned back to the apartment it was different to how it had been in the car-ride home. (The car was Jeongin’s father’s who lived in Seoul, he had learnt.)

When he returned, it was like before. Before they had that strange shared hesitance with every move, before the almost-kiss, before all of it.

It was like he and Seungmin were just friends, plain and simple friends, again.

And Minho hadn’t even realised he had missed it with everything he had.

Seungmin made his bed up for him with the finest precision; throwing on a soft cuddly cat plushie for good measure. He made Minho pomegranate teas, and warm soups and brought him a bag of frozen peas or icepack interchangeably. He made sure Minho took his medicine, fed the cats without complaint, massaged his leg nightly for the ‘blood circulation benefits’ and they watched movies together like nothing had changed at all.

Minho didn’t mention how Seungmin hadn’t been one of the initial people there at the hospital even despite the younger’s holidays starting (the med students always got their break a month early.) Seungmin didn’t mention how Minho let himself laze around on the couch all day, ate junk food and didn’t attend class or work.

Maybe it was for the best.

Minho attempted to call and apologise to Hyunjin and Felix many times; nightly for the first two weeks. Felix let his calls dial out. On the eighth day, Hyunjin picked up the phone and told him to soundly “fuck off – we don’t want to hear from you, asshole.”

Minho had told Seungmin about the dancer’s use of ‘we’ – how that consolidated them as ‘together’ and how he’d won the bet.

Seungmin passed him the thermostat remote with a small smile.

Minho accepted it. Stared at the degree sign on the remote. He didn’t change it.

He didn’t feel much like a winner.

At the third week into his injury, Seungmin finally got irritated with his depressed laziness.

“You need to do something, Hyung,” the younger argued, jaded. “You can’t lie around here forever – it’s only worse for your knee if you don’t move it at all.”

Minho munched on his American-style cheesy-flavoured chips and pretended he didn’t see the way Seungmin’s face scrunched in disgust when he licked the cheese powder residue off his fingers. “I’m healing.”

Seungmin’s resounding sigh was deafening. “Jisung called me yesterday and he’s basically pissing himself without you. Something about, how he’ll take the light brown beans out of the dark beans one-by-one if it’ll get you back? I don’t know – don’t care – you deal with it.”

The front door slammed. Minho was alone again.

His eyes watered as he lifelessly watched the television show pass him by.

A day later he received a call.

He paused the movie Seungmin had turned on for them both. “Hello?”

_“It’s Chan,”_ the voice said.

Minho brightened. “Hyung! What’s up?”

_“You haven’t been coming to class – and no, don’t worry I’m not going to lecture you-”_ (Seungmin had been doing that enough already) _“-but I was hoping I could drop by tomorrow, give you the work you’re missing out on.”_

Minho smiled. “Yeah, I’ll leave the door unlocked. How’s Mr. Hates-us-talking-about-burgers-and-cats, going without me?”

Chan laughed; the sound so different from how Minho had been feeling the last three weeks. _“I think he wishes you’ll never recover! But it’s so quiet and boring without you to talk to.”_

Minho chuckled again and glanced at Seungmin who was waiting impatiently for him to end the call. “Look, Channie-hyung, I’ve got to go, but definitely come by. I’m free all day.”

_“Aright, I’ll be there around eleven, okay?”_

“Yep, see ya’,” Minho ended the call, feeling uplifted.

Seungmin didn’t speak, just hit play.

The movie trickled on.

Chan stuck true to his promise, and at eleven sharp was at the front door with his hands completely full.

“What the hell?” Minho giggled and quickly scrambled to take the papers and bowl of soup(?) out of the elder’s grasp.

“Morning to you too,” Chan grinned, kicking his shoes off with practised ease and coming inside.

“You got coffees?!” Minho gasped, seeing the matching cups balanced delicately in his hands.

“My mother raised me right,” Chan answered as he set them down on the bench. “Plus, soup too – I didn’t know what flavour you liked so I got you the chicken one, and I’ve always been taught to bring sick people soup. Nice place.”

“Thanks and I’m _not_ sick, just resting,” Minho answered, suddenly insecure that he hadn’t cleaned it before the elder came over. Hurriedly, he subtly tried to hide the half-eaten chips packet discarded on the couch and was disgusted at his slob-like messes.

“Ah, I don’t think I’ve met you,” Chan’s voice, not directed at him, made Minho look up at to the Australian again.

He swivelled around until he saw Seungmin, still in his pyjama’s, standing awkwardly at the living room’s entrance. “Oh, Seungmin, this is uh – Chan-hyung.”

Seungmin nodded and sent him a cold wave. “Kim Seungmin.”

Chan seemed a little taken aback at the other’s disinterest but collected himself well with a dimpled smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Seungmin let the words hang in the air and just as Minho opened his mouth to berate him for his rudeness the younger turned away. “I’ve got work to do.”

And as quickly as he came, he was gone.

“S-Sorry about that,” Minho felt the need to apologise and Chan just brushed him off with a grin that looked slightly less genuine than the last.

“Don’t worry about it, maybe I should have brought him a coffee as a gift. I am in his apartment after all, right?”

“It’s rented,” Minho explained, motioning to the couch. “Despite that, he should behave better – plus you didn’t know he’d be here – only med students get an early holiday.”

“Med?” Chan asked, even though he didn’t have to, bringing the coffees to the low table. “Sounds tough.”

“Not tough enough to justify for a bad attitude,” Minho grumbled and tried to shake the younger’s behaviour from his mind. He picked up a coffee and almost dropped in shock it immediately.

“Careful!” Chan warned, gripping a hand around Minho’s wrist. “Oh my god, did it burn you?”

Minho laughed, “No, Hyung, it’s not hot, don’t worry.”

He glanced at the take-away coffee cup again, then Chan’s name on top of the lid. Sure, enough it was Jisung’s messy writing. The coffee was from District Nine.

What a coincidence. Perhaps a sign

“Anyway, what’s been going on in business?”

And with that, they began.

When Chan left he sent out a text.

_> To: Han Jisung_

_> Back on the nine a.m. shift tmrw! Sorry for being slack, and excited to see you separate all the coffee beans >;) haha jk, I’m not colourblind u are._

When he relaxed on the couch, Seungmin at the other side he felt better than he had in weeks, perhaps even a month. Of course, Seungmin had to ruin that.

“He’s into you, you know that, right?”

Minho turned away from the television. “What?”

Seungmin didn’t look at him; his face that same frustrating blankness. “Chan-ssi. He brought you soup.”

Minho frowned, petting Dori’s soft fur. “We’re just friends, Seungmin. Don’t overanalyse every little thing.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, to bite back most likely but closed it again; jaw clenched.

Minho turned the television volume up.

Seungmin got up and left.

The next month passed by simply.

Seungmin returned to university and Minho hated that he was thankful. He busied himself with shifts, catching up on business classes and studying with Chan (his parent’s threat still rung in his mind), and his knee exercises.

It had mainly healed now when he walked there was no pain - when he bent down to refill the cat’s bowls it didn’t click as often, and when he did, he made sure he didn’t put it under any extra pressure for the rest of the day.

Even though it was almost better than it had been for the past few months, he hadn’t gone back to the studio. To work on his dance, he learnt and created choreographies in his bedroom, the cramped space and lack of mirror making it difficult and frustrating to do so, but it was all better than the alternative; of bumping into Hyunjin or Felix.

He had only managed to successfully call them once after the initial two-week-craze; other times he chickened out or they didn’t answer.

The extended fight, the extended silence was nothing he’d ever had before with them. They had been his best friends for the past four years or so and if they ever fought it was over in a mere matter of hours, and most three days.

And yet this had gone on for far too long. But he had no clue how to apologise.

“They’ll understand,” Chan attempted, when they studied at the local library (when this had become an often thing, he didn’t know.)

“I don’t know,” Minho grumbled tossing down his pen to put his head in his hands. “They were always so… scared to get together as a couple, ya know? It took them like three years or something to realise their feelings for each other and then _act_ on it. And yet I just disrespected their relationship which like, just begun; I completely crossed the line and insulted them both.”

“If you tell them that, they’ll understand,” Chan repeated, more insistent this time and Minho groaned. “I may not know Hyunjin that well, but I sure as hell know my cousin. And from what I can tell, neither of them would throw away four years of friendship over one mistake.”

Minho exhaled. “I’m too much of a pussy to even face them. Maybe I don’t deserve love, even platonic.”

Chan was quiet for a second and from the corner of his eye, Minho could see him worriedly biting his lip like he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Minho ‘ever-the-benevolent’ decided to save him. “Let’s just get back to studying. Exams are next month.”

Chan did.

Seungmin, also had his exams coming up; his finals. Minho was nervous the younger was over-working himself, studying for hours at a time, but he, like with Hyunjin and Felix, was scared to say the wrong thing.

They didn’t have their movie nights anymore.

Minho sat alone on the couch, the three cats at his side, as Seungmin studied more and more and more.

The room felt empty.

He started to venture out to the studio again. His room was far too small to properly choreograph anything, and with Seungmin’s sour attitude the apartment as a whole was becoming claustrophobic.

Besides, he did minor in dance – no matter that it was an under-funded and way-too-lax-to-properly-function-as-a-whole class. He had a classical piece to choreograph for his grade next week and he had left it to the last minute (a common theme with his studies.)

At first, he had attempted some studio’s different from his usual one – but either the lights were too bright, or the floors were too slippery, or the vibe was just odd. With a chat to Jisung about it at work, he had been convinced to try the normal studio again – just going at odd hours or days he knew Hyunjin and Felix wouldn’t be there.

But the thing was, he wasn’t very good at maths (Seungmin usually excelled in that kind of thing) and he hadn’t checked the magnetic calendar on the fridge for a while so when he walked out of the studio and Felix and Hyunjin walked in, he knew he was screwed.

He saw them first.

And he had no idea what to say.

Hyunjin saw him second.

“Hyung?” the younger asked, not exactly dismissive but not exactly friendly either.

Minho felt hope rise in his chest. It was a chance.

“Hey guys,” he said awkwardly, his shoulders involuntarily hunching inwards. He eyed Hyunjin, then Felix; the latter looking far more nervous, open but also… scared… than the former.

“Minho-hyung,” Felix greeted, and Minho only just realised how much he missed the other’s deep voice.

The three were awkward for a second.

Minho took in a deep breath. “I’m really fucking sorry. I screwed up, and I was angry that I hurt my knee _which definitely isn’t_ an excuse, and it was completely out of line to… say what I said, especially to you Lixie-”

He regretted the nickname at the Australian’s flinch – like the cutesy name brought up a bad memory. Still, he went on.

“-It was really not cool, and disrespectful, and just… yeah,” He licked his lips and forced himself to say the very thing that he feared the most. l It’s okay if you guys don’t want to see me an’ shit – I can uh – leave.”

Leave. A word with so much meaning. A word that Hyunjin looked like he was considering even slightly until Felix pulled away from his grasp. And barrelled into Minho with a hug.

“M’ sorry too,” the Australian apologised, muffled by Minho’s coat. “It was unfair to ignore your messages, and not say what was going on between me and Jinnie.”

At that Felix drew back, his cheeks red at his Freudian slip.

Minho, teasingly, but carefully raised an eyebrow. “So… it’s official?”

Hyunjin coughed then, and Minho bit back a smile at how red his cheeks were turning too. “Yeah, it is.”

Minho was just about to open his mouth and congratulate them, something he hadn’t been able to do before, but Hyunjin fixed him with a glare that made him snap his mouth shut.

“No more… shit, okay?” Hyunjin asked the words almost a threat and Minho shuddered.

Felix frowned, looking ready to reprimand Hyunjin that he was being too harsh, but Minho stopped him.

“Yeah,” he promised, holding Hyunjin’s gaze. “No more shit.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them.

Then, Hyunjin nodded. “You up for some dance, or is your old-man knee tired out?”

Minho chuckled, habitually shifting some weight onto his left leg, waiting for the pained clicks that didn’t come. “I could do an hour.”

“Or two?” Felix gave him a soft, but challenging smile.

Minho grinned, elated. “Or two.”

“And we’re all good now, how great is that?”

Jisung hummed, impressed, and stopped sweeping the café floor to turn and face him. It was the lowest time of the day in terms of District Nine customers – the lunchbreak of surrounding businesses had finished an hour ago – and Jisung had taken the time to sweep the floors.

(Minho had tried to take over as the hyung, but his knee was acting up, and Jisung had confined him to ‘desk-rest’ – sitting on the countertop which may not be the most sanitary option, but comfortable nonetheless.)

“Ya know, when I first met you,” Jisung started, rounding on him and Minho rolled his eyes already knowing what was about to come. “I really thought you were some introverted, pretty-face, asshole, but apologising after _horrendously screwing up like you did_ , takes some gall.”

Minho laughed at Jisung’s exaggeration (which wasn’t _really_ an exaggeration but still-) and leaned back, the afternoon sun hitting the left side of his face. He indulged in it for a moment, sighing in relief as he rolled his head back, Jisung’s soft sweeping and the chatter of people walking by outside gently filling his ears.

Opening his eyes and lifting his head back up to see an amused Jisung.

“Living the best life?”

Minho reminisced for a short moment. Everything was almost back to normal with Felix and Hyunjin (who were way too cute for Minho to function sometimes when he caught them resting their foreheads together or holding hands for a fleeting moment in the dance studio). Chan studied with him at least once a week, and as compared to their lazy not-actually-studying sessions from a month or two ago, it had developed into productive working sessions and as a result, his grades were higher than ever. The cats were all chilling, so was his knee, and the only thing out of place was Seungmin.

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered were the things that brought him happiness, like the sun, like the smell of perfectly sorted coffee beans, his true, true friends, the here and the now.

“I feel like,” Minho started, wishing he had Jisung’s way of expressing his feelings. “I feel like I’m… more prepared to like – live.”

Jisung flashed him a smile, similar to how Chan always did (Minho wasn’t quite sure why the elder’s name and the comparison came to him so easily.) “That’s good, Hyungie. I’m proud of you.”

And for the first time in a while, Minho was proud of himself too.

During the walk home, he decided to try and make things right with Seungmin. Despite being roommates for two years, they had been friends a while before that. Minho couldn’t let his crush, and his inability to communicate well or express his true feelings, get in the way of that.

It couldn’t. Seungmin was at fault sure, but so was Minho. Besides, with the younger’s final exams coming up in a month, it was his duty to at least attempt to make things right, for both of their sakes.

When he arrived home after his closing shift, he had psyched himself up.

He opened the door.

Just to be met with no one other but Seo Changbin.

“Hello, again.”

He managed to keep up a good pretence around Seungmin and Changbin, his heart sinking with every passing minute. He eyed another Marvel movie playing on the television, a singular bowl of half-empty popcorn on the couch.

When he got to his bedroom, he sat down, feeling cold. He wasn’t angry, nor did the green flame of jealously tug at his heart.

It was a strange emotion instead.

It was a disheartened, sorrowful acceptance.

Minho could tell when the younger was having a good or a bad day, and on those bad days he tried to keep out of Seungmin’s hair as much as possible, but recently, the other seemed to be having more of the latter. And it was getting harder and harder to just stay out of the way like he usually did.

“Hyung,” Seungmin complained, his tone bordering on annoyance. “Can you _please_ get Doongie out of my room? She keeps jumping on my desk.”

Minho rushed in to grab the bratty feline, scooping his hand precariously under her white underbelly to take her away from Seungmin and the timed practice test he was taking.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised and ignored the little tug on his heart when Seungmin just flicked him away dismissively with his hand.

As quietly but as quickly as he could, he rushed out of the younger’s bedroom and closed the door with a sigh. Doongie meowed grumpily in his hand and he placed her back on solid ground before she could get temperamental and start hissing at him.

He lingered outside Seungmin’s door for a second more, half of him wanting to see if the other needed anything like a cup of tea or a snack, but as soon as the idea popped into his mind, he squashed it. He knew from experience that it was better to just leave Seungmin alone especially with how strained their relationship was.

It was just how things were. It was just how Seungmin was.

It was half-past three when the younger finally came out of his room and Minho watched him wearily as the boy cracked an egg into a pan and started to cook.

“I made you lunch,” Minho said a little-too-late, catching the younger’s attention so he nodded towards a plate on the dining room table, filled with still-warm rice and last-night’s leftovers.

Seungmin turned back to the pan, so Minho couldn’t see his face. “No thanks.”

The egg sizzled.

Minho bit his lip, a hint of fury flaming through his veins, wanting to say something else so Seungmin would actually show some more respect towards him and the time put in to make the other a meal, but he shoved it aside. Instead, he stroked Soonie’s back before getting off the sofa and putting the dish away in the half-empty fridge.

He peered at the plain egg Seungmin was making but kept his thoughts to himself.

“How’s your studying going?” he attempted, turning back to the fridge to check the calendar. He winced when he saw the scheduled Changbin and Seungmin Marvel movie night next week.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Seungmin said, a sharp edge to his voice, which told Minho that it certainly wasn’t going fine.

He turned back towards his roommate.

“Can you call your med-hyungs for help?” he asked, but from the way Seungmin’s back tensed, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut after all.

“I don’t _need help_ , Hyung,” Seungmin said, flipping the egg over with more force than he needed. “It’s just… memorisation, okay? It’s fine.”

Minho bit his lip again, his teeth worrying the plump flesh again and wished he’d never asked.

“Alright,” he said, backing away from the younger, imagining the frown on the other’s face. He glanced at the clock – four-thirty.

He could really do with a night out.

“I might go do something with Chan tonight,” he said, a plan of his night and his outfit already forming in his mind. “Is that good with you?”

When Seungmin took a beat longer than usual to answer Minho looked up at the boy’s back. The angry sizzle of oil imitated the room’s shift and Minho scrambled to think of what he said wrong.

Seungmin, with a plain steaming egg now on his plate, turned away from the stove to face him.

“Yeah,” he said his voice slightly on edge. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Minho frowned at the younger’s cryptic answer, wishing he was able to decipher Seungmin’s flat expressions, or the emotions dancing behind his eyes. “I don’t know.”

They stayed like that, awkward teetering on unsaid words and unasked questions but at Seungmin’s fiery gaze Minho looked away. Without another word, he bumbled to his bedroom.

When he reached the solace of his room he collapsed on his bed.

God since when did he need to ask for Seungmin’s permission to leave the house? Why was every single exchange so… passive-aggressive?

What had happened to them?

Minho had hoped to sneak out of the apartment to let Seungmin calm down and potentially avoid another conflict-slash-confrontation, but luck had not been on his side today.

“You’re going out in that?” Seungmin noted pointedly and Minho felt a familiar prick of irritation surge through him. However, still, he insecurely observed his clothes – sure leather pants may be a little… promiscuous, (as well as the low buttoned black shirt he loved to death and the smidge of eyeshadow he had put on at least seven times until he was happy with it), but it was just rude for Seungmin to so harshly comment on them and by default Minho’s decisions themselves.

“And?” Minho asked, suddenly tired again. He fiddled for his keys, checked his phone and his wallet was secure in his pants pocket.

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied and looked haughtily away. “I’m going out with Changbin-hyung, so no movie tonight.”

Minho bit his lip again, that same pit of jealously burning again. “With?”

Seungmin eyed him, his face giving away no indications of his words. “With.”

Minho swallowed, unable to hold the youngers gaze. “Okay. Cool. I’ll be back late.”

And with that, and his stomach twisting in on itself, he left.

If he were honest, this bar kinda sucked.

“Sorry,” Chan apologised shrugging his shoulders in a nervous but cute kind of way. “Last time I went here it was good…”

Minho snickered, flittering his eyes down Chan’s well-put-together outfit. “Don’t worry about it; good thing about beer is that it tastes the same wherever you go.”

Chan laughed, bright and loud like Minho was the best comedian in the world. “You’re right about that.”

Minho’s heart flip-flopped at the elder’s dimpled, clinked his glass, and pushed the strange feeling aside.

Sure, Chan was super fucking hot. Like Minho had definitely had a few fantasies about the Australian when he first met him, but now they were just good friends… right?

Then again maybe most twenty-something-year-old friends didn’t go to random bars to party _only_ with each other, and maybe most twenty-something-year-old friends didn’t put this much time into each other’s outfit if they _weren’t_ looking to get laid.

_Wait, what?!_

_Immediately,_ compartmentalising _that,_ he ordered another round and shuffled awkwardly on the dancefloor, keeping in mind his knee, until the bartender pushed two glasses towards him.

“Hey,” Chan breathed, suddenly closer to him than he thought; sending an electrifying tingle down his spine. “I’ll pay, it’s my honour.”

His heart in his throat he looked up (God _, up!_ Chan was so fucking tall-) into the elder’s eyes. They were filled with the darkest of browns, glittered with the lightest of white from the overhead disco lights, swimming with something so intense it almost made Minho’s knees weak.

He sipped his beer playfully, not moving away from Chan. Their breaths mingled together in the close proximity and suddenly, an idea.

Knowing his power, he slid a lithe finger into one of Chan’s exposed belt loops, drawing him closer until the tips of their noses were almost touching.

“Wanna’ get out of here?” he asked with a sultry smirk.

The hitch in Chan’s breath was all the answer he needed.

_“_ _Holy shit_ _”_ he moaned breathily when Chan’s lips found the pale skin of his exposed neck. Minho dug his fingers into elder’s curly hair harder and the Australian let out a sound that bordered between pain and pleasure.

Fuck. That was hot.

What was possibly even hotter was the fact that Chan was literally _holding_ him in mid-air like Minho weighed nothing; his large hands squeezing the bottom of his thighs in an animalistic way.

After Minho’s… _proposition,_ they had stumbled out of the bar, called a cab and made-out in the driver’s backseat as he drove. Poor guy – especially poor because when he whispered under his breath _“fucking fags”_ Chan had almost punched the daylights out of him.

((And look, he was sure he wasn’t attracted to the cliché bad-boy type (read: Seungmin – the definition of a good boy) _but God_ if that didn’t turn him on.))

Luckily the guy, at Chan’s growl shut up and drove them the rest of the way there. (And just for fun, Minho pitched up his moans just to piss him off.)

And that was what he was doing at that very moment as Chan bit the underside of his jaw; a sensitive spot he didn’t even know existed and left his vision swirling.

“C-Chan,” he stammered and immediately the other boy paused, looking up at him.

“Min?” he asked, expression glazed but careful. “Are you okay? Do you want to… stop?”

Minho glanced at the other, the way his eyes were cloudy from lust, the way his lips were swollen and dark, the way his dyed hair stuck up in crazy ways. He smirked. _He_ had done that. Made Chan so susceptible to every touch, every word.

In this situation, he finally _had_ control, something that with Seungmin he never had. Now wait, why was he thinking about Seungmin _now?_ God, he just wanted to forget, to forget, forget, forget.

So, he guided his lips to Chan’s own and kissed him. Hard.

_“_ _Fuck,_ _”_ Chan growled, and Minho saw stars when the elder adjusted his hands, so they gripped his ass.

Minho did moan then, long and drawn out as the Australian walked over to the living room and set him on the couch, till he was leaning over him.

“Channie,” he whimpered out in lust when the other gripped his bare waist, nibbled on his earlobe.

He broke apart, a thread of lust connecting them before Minho tugged Chan’s shirt off, the elder smiling sheepishly when is messed up his curly hair. Usually, at that smile, Minho’s heart would dance, but this time it just pounded in his chest.

Desire.

In one quick movement, he pulled Chan onto him, their skin clashing together in a dance and their mouths connected once more in a wild chase.

Strong hands trailed down his half-exposed chest, closer to his belt buckle and Minho keened into the kiss again.

God, he wanted more, _needed_ more. More, more, more-

The creak of the door opening came too late.

Minho dived away from Chan’s kiss and snapped his head to the door, now open with the last person he wanted to be standing there, standing there.

_“_ _Hyung?_ _”_

Roughly, Minho shoved Chan off him, sitting up so he could see Seungmin standing blankly at the entrance.

_Oh shit._

“Seu-” he attempted but the words died in his throat.

Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_ – this was bad. Like seriously fucking bad.

“What the fuck?” came Seungmin’s voice, his eyes wide.

Minho quickly scrambled off the couch, tugging the shirt which had ridden up back over his waist and praying Chan had found his own shirt too. But at once glance to the elder, it was obvious he had not, and Minho felt his cheeks flush in embarrassed guilt.

“Seungmin-” he attempted again, pushing Chan who now was thankfully scrambling for his shirt, away. “This – This isn’t what it looks like, okay?”

The younger scoffed then, and it felt like a jab to his heart. “There can’t be _anything_ else this looks like, Hyung. You’re… _fucking him!”_

. “I-I’m not!” Minho argued, glancing at Chan who stood there like an awkward bystander and pretended he didn’t see the flash of hurt in the Australian’s dark eyes. “I mean we – we _almost,_ but I don’t _like him-_ I mean – fuck.”

Seungmin looked betrayed. Chan did too. Minho put his head in a hand. Christ this was a mess. His knee hurt. His head hurt. His heart hurt.

“I should,” Chan broke the silence, trailing off when two pairs of blazing eyes turned to him. The Australian awkwardly cleared his throat. “I should go.”

Minho opened his mouth to answer but Seungmin in his simmering anger did for him.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed bluntly, arms crossed.

Minho felt his heart stop when Seungmin turned to him, his eyes unforgiving and almost black in the night.

Then, he said it. “You should too.”

Minho felt his world collapse.

He slid out the front door, the cats meowing behind him and Chan beside him, side by side but distant like two lone soldiers returning from war. In this smidge of power or control he tried to take, he had failed and reverted back to obedience. Because he listened to Seungmin like a pet dog.

But then again, had he ever been able to stand up for himself with Seungmin?

But then why was he painting Seungmin the villain of everything, when he had abused both Seungmin and Chan’s trust and almost fucked the latter on their couch?

“Chan-” he started, when the elder walked further away from the apartment complex. It had started to trickle with a sad-feeling rain.

The Australian didn’t turn. “Not now, Minho, please.”

Minho bit his lip and stopped, the rain dripping down the collar off his button-up shirt.

“Look,” Chan held his arms out to the side before letting them slap on his sides in a defeated passion. “Give me a few days Minho, okay? Please. Do that for me.”

And with that Minho was alone once more.

With a trembling hand, he reached for his phone, dialled the number that he knew would save him.

_“Hyung?”_

“Lix?” he shivered in the cold. “Can I crash at yours tonight?”

The line went empty for a few seconds.

_“Come to Hyunjin’s,”_ Felix replied. _“I’m there. Are you okay?”_

Minho paused for a moment, the truth sour on his tongue. “I’ll be there in ten.”

It had been three days since the fight. Minho had tried to call Seungmin but each time the line kept ringing. He hadn’t called Chan out of respect. Felix was the messenger between the two, telling Minho that the other was ‘okay’, and ‘just needed time.’

Thankfully, the younger Australian didn’t seem to be holding the night’s events against him maliciously. Ever since Minho had blurted out all the mistakes he made and how he ruined everything (again) the couple were being sympathetic.

Hyunjin was offering him the spare room indefinitely. Felix used to sleep there on the nights all three of them slept over after a dance session or for a movie night, but of course, now the younger two shared a bed. In fact, Felix was moving in with Hyunjin at the end of the year.

They’d offered Minho a temporary place as well, but he’d declined.

He had to make things right with Seungmin. But after so long of avoiding everything, he had no clue how.

And Chan was another issue entirely… he’d deal with that later.

Still, he had no idea where to even begin.

It turned out going back to the apartment when he showed up and Seungmin silently let him in, didn’t magically solve their problems.

He sat on the couch after work and stroked one of the cats (notably Soonie’s – seemingly she wanted more attention these days) fur whilst Seungmin avoided the sofa entirely. Minho guessed the younger probably felt like how he would if he caught Changbin and Seungmin halfway into ‘the act.’

It made his stomach twist at the honestly repulsive thought. Therefore, in that way, he could sympathise with ‘Silent Seungmin’ as he dubbed in for obvious reasons. However, sympathy didn’t solve problems just like it hadn’t solved poverty or world hunger. Actions instead would. Yet he was too scared to even initiate _a conversation…_

So, a dilemma. A cycle perhaps – it was all like before, but this time he had one more person he’d fucked up with and one less place to relax in.

He skipped business classes and hanging around the apartment for dancing with Hyunjin and Felix or picking up extra shifts. In fact, the latter was what he was doing at that moment, Jisung sorting the coffee beans because _seemingly_ he’d gotten them _confused again_ , and himself at the cash register.

This dichotomy of areas he’d built in his head – places that never intertwined or converged before opposite to a Venn diagram perhaps, was merely idealistic. Because sure, Seungmin had never walked into the dance studio before, or Chan into the café, so he found a haven in the illogical separation of these spheres of his life.

So, when a face he’d only ever seen his apartment before stepped into District Nine his whole body stopped.

“Jisung,” he hissed, ducking below the counter. “Serve this guy right now and I’ll buy you a hot chocolate, okay?”

Jisung turned away from the shelves with a cocked brow. Expecting more hesitation and negotiation from his side, quickly Minho opened his mouth to beg further, maybe toss a doughnut into the deal but at the way Jisung’s face changed from a sceptical outlook to an excited face much like a puppy, Minho found he didn’t need too.

Yet he’d much prefer giving up a few thousand won for a doughnut because this was much, much worse.

“Binnie-hyung!” came Jisung’s cheery voice. “I thought you were at the studio! You came and surprised me!”

Minho hunched closer to the counter, right beside where Jisung was standing and frowned at the nickname and more and the gentle uncharacteristic-to-his-intimidating-face chuckle that came from the customer, otherwise known as Minho’s worst enemy (not to be dramatic.)

_Jisung knows Changbin? Seungmin’s Changbin?_

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sung,” Changbin replied, and ‘Sung?!’ God, he was missing something so, so, so large. Like completely huge – what wasn’t adding up…?

A kick to his side made him grimace and he glared up at Jisung the little traitor, who was staring down at him.

“Bin-hyung, you know Kim Seungmin, right?”

Minho’s eyes widened and before Changbin could answer something he may not want to hear, he shot up.

Changbin flinched back, startled to see him. Fair. Most customer experiences did not include him randomly appearing from behind the counter at a rapid pace.

“Uh – hey,” he coughed awkwardly, wishing Jisung would _save him_ instead of hiding his laughter. “Just um – dropped something.”

Changbin raised an eyebrow and Minho hated how much it reminded him of Seungmin. “You don’t have anything in your hand.”

Minho glanced at his accurately empty hands. “I just – uh – put it back… on the shelf.”

Jisung actually snickered that time, and as discreetly as he could Minho elbowed him in the stomach until the younger hunched over.

“Anyway,” Minho desperately tried to recover his declining image, “Can I get you anything?”

Changbin just hummed. “I didn’t know you worked with Jisung, Minho-ssi.”

“I do, yeah,” Minho nodded and forced a smile. “World’s a small place.”

“Changbin’s actually the one who found Dori,” Jisung finally decided to chime in with completely useless but actually rather interesting information. “So, it’s weird to think about that if I wasn’t roomies with Binnie-hyung and didn’t work with you, there’s like no way Dori would be with you, hey?” (The fact it was a cool coincidence, but it didn’t want to make Minho strangle Jisung any less.)

Still, he choked out an agreement. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Finally, Jisung _actually_ saved him and continued the order with Changbin enough that Minho could escape to cleaning the indoor tables and could pretend he didn’t hear that Changbin was ordering a ‘milk no sugar’ coffee for Chan while he was at it.

“You all know each other?” he asked when Changbin left.

“Yeah, Binne-hyung Channie-hyung and I have been friends since like high school. We all live together now.” Jisung explained. “I thought you knew.”

Minho shook his head. “No, Chan never told me. Neither did you.”

Jisung nodded, looking introspective for a few seconds. “Fix things with Chan-hyung, okay?”

Minho bit his lip at the sudden question-slash-demand. It seemed like his haven of the café wasn’t so problem-free as he once thought.

“Yeah,” he said, more to ease his own and Jisung’s conscious than with the intent to actually put in the efforts and actions to undo and unravel the issues he caused. “I will. I just need to… figure some stuff out with Seungmin first.”

Jisung didn’t look bought by his excuse and in fact, it was probably the least-child-like Minho had ever seen the younger. “I’ll be waiting then. This is on you.”

When he got back to the apartment, he had one question.

“Did you know that Chan, Jisung and Changbin are all best friends?” he asked before Seungmin could escape to his room. “They’re all like connected, have been for years - they basically live together.”

Minho watches Seungmin turn to him, the dinner Minho had made for them to share in his hands. “Yeah, I did. Does it matter?”

To Minho it did. It slightly mattered more that Seungmin knew and didn’t tell him. The boy went back to his room without another spare glance.

Minho ate alone if he dismissed the cats’ company. He was used to it now.

Business-class was an odd affair. Minho half wished for everything between them to have not happened, for it all to go back to normal. The other half of him knew he couldn’t change it.

What he knew now though, was why he had done it – he had spent the days and nights avoiding class to truly think about it. It was for selfish reasons – to have a distraction, to forget about Seungmin, to even make the younger jealous.

But Chan… Chan had done it whole-heartedly like he did everything. And that meant… Seungmin was most likely right. Chan liked him.

And Minho had abused that to serve himself.

He had no right to really show up, sit beside the Australian like they hadn’t almost fucked on his couch. He had no right to say ‘hello’ as if nothing had changed and didn’t deserve it when Chan said it back.

He had to make it right. As Jisung said, this was on him.

As both Seungmin and Hyunjin once said, Lee Minho was an asshole. And he truly felt the weight of those words when class ended.

“I think I… got something wrong,” Chan offered a smile as they walked through the campus’s small park.

Minho bit his lip. “Yeah?”

God, that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

Chan looked away. “I thought you… reciprocated my uh – feelings.”

Minho shifted his weight, pretended to look for something in the area. “I’m… sorry Chan-hyung.”

The elder sighed. “Were you just going to fuck me to prove something to Seungmin-ssi?”

Minh stopped walking. Chan stopped a few steps later and turned to look back at him, a pleading look in his eyes. And yet he couldn’t answer.

And that was enough.

Chan sucked in a breath, not standing to look at him.

Minho bit his lip harder. His heart ached with the final stupidly slow realisation of the situation, of what was fucking happening. “Chan-”

“No, Minho. Just… give me a minute, okay?” Chan interrupted and Minho did as he was told.

The autumn wind blew its leaves around them, but all Minho could feel was dread. No, he couldn’t lose Chan too. What the hell was he doing? How could be care about his own selfish ass before Chan, the Chan who’d always helped him, helped him when no one else would?

“I’m okay now,” Chan said, but the crack in his voice betrayed his words.

Minho felt his heart drop. “Shit, hyung. I’m so sorry, I – I didn’t – I don’t know… I…”

“-It’s really fine-”

“No!” Minho pleaded, his voice louder than he thought. “It’s… it’s not. I… I was the one who screwed up, okay? Not you. I just… I’m at a weird place with Seungmin, and that’s no excuse, but I thought… I thought if I… fuck, I’m sorry, Hyung.”

Chan just nodded. Silent. Minho hated how he recognised that embarrassed mixed of feeling like an idiot and heartbrokenness in the elder’s eyes. He hated how his own actions and selfishness had caused it.

“Chan?” he asked tentatively and swallowed when he forgot the honorary ‘hyung’ at the end of the latter’s name; said the same lust-filled thing he had moaned that night.

The Australian looked up.

“Want to come with me to ‘Korea’s finest’ Western restaurant’ if I quote you and – and the advertisement correctly? As… as friends?”

Quiet.

“As friends,” Chan agreed wetly with a dimpled smile and Minho felt his heart stagger.

He felt the lump in his throat grow at the sheen to Chan’s eyes and blinked the blurriness out of his gaze. He couldn’t break down – he was not the one being heartbroken. He had to be strong, for Chan.

Unsure of what he was doing was right, he gently grasped Chan’s hand, the hand that so many times had comforted him. “Let’s go?”

Chan sniffed and turned away until all he could see was the back of the elder’s head, hunched low. Minho waited as he heard the Australian take a deep breath and felt shit when the boy turned back to him a wobbly, but certain smile on his face.

“Let’s go.”

A week later Changbin showed up at District Nine again.

This was his one shift Jisung didn’t work with him, so this time Minho had no one to save him. He sent a quick prayer, cleared his throat and forced on his ‘customer-service’ smile.

“Hi, welcome to District Nine,” he chanted out methodically, choosing to look at the small piece of white fuzz amidst Changbin’s jet black hair rather than his eyes. “What can I get for you t-”

“You don’t need to act with me, Minho-ssi,” the boy cut through and Minho felt his façade falter at the calm levelness to the other’s soft gravelly voice. The way it never deviated from the same almost-soothing pitch, the way there was never a trace of anger in it whether it was because Changbin didn’t feel that emotion towards Minho or was just much, much better at hiding it.

Minho nodded curtly, still avoiding the other’s eyes. “Right. Okay.”

“I’ll have the matcha latte – double cream and a shot of espresso,” Changbin gazed over the menu.

Minho felt irritation even prickle at that. Why so complicated of an order? God, it was like Changbin was intentionally trying to piss him off.

“Take away?” he asked, hoping the other would agree so he could see less of him.

“Have in,” Changbin instead replied, no waver to his voice.

Minho nodded stiffly, turning away from the other to make the order, letting his co-worker a high school girl take the elderly woman’s request while in his peripheral vision watching Changbin contently wait on one of the smaller two-person seats. He really hoped the other chair wasn’t for Seungmin, but as Seungmin had his final exam of the year now, his theory was unlikely.

Pushing past the counter door, he carefully carried the latte to the table, knowing he would never intentionally spill it on Changbin because he liked to think he wasn’t that much of an asshole, he would have to clean up the mess and he’d possibly get reprimanded or even fired for that behaviour.

Without a smile, following Changbin’s earlier statement, he set it down. But just as he was about to let go of the mug, fingers wrapping around his own made him pause.

“Can…” Changbin started, then looked away, and it made Minho feel slightly better because it seemed the boy wasn’t great at holding conversation either. “Can you… do you have five minutes?”

Minho pulled back, finally staring into the other’s eyes. Maybe it was the imploring, sensitive look in them that made him nod his head, ask for his break and sit opposite the boy.

“Yeah?” he asked bluntly.

Changbin sipped his stupidly complicated drink. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Minho snorted at that, sarcastic. “Yeah, we must have.”

The other didn’t retaliate or react just stared at him, with that same unreadable, but slightly less smug face that Seungmin always had. “I wanted to apologise.”

Minho blinked. Okay, he wasn’t expecting that. He lowered his guard slightly and slumped into the seat. Shit, he was being such an ass for no reason – the guy just wanted to apologise for doing basically nothing wrong!

“You don’t need to,” he replied, putting away some of his pride. “I…”

The words died on his tongue. He wanted to say he misread the other’s and Seungmin’s relationship, but in honestly, he had no idea what Changbin’s intentions were with Seungmin. Was it romance? Sex? Friendship? Seungmin hadn’t ever made it clear before.

So, he asked. “You and Seungmin… what are you two?”

Changbin looked slightly confused for a second, before nodding. “Friends.”

Minho swallowed. “Do you want more?”

Changbin was quiet, thoughtful, and it made Minho dread the boy’s answer.

“I don’t know,” Changbin was honest, his eyes clear. “If I’m honest, he interests me, inspires me, and I’d be lying to say I haven’t thought of something else, something more…”

Minho nodded along, hating how he agreed to everything the other said, who perhaps wasn’t the monster he had made him out to be in his own mind.

Changbin continued, “But, right now, there’s something in between us – a barrier of sorts, and I have to respect that.”

Minho frowned. “What’s the barrier?”

Changbin smiled, and that too looked honest, despite the way it strained on his lips. “You.”

_Me,_ Minho mused over the words Changbin had said to him as he walked home from work. _Me. I’m why they aren’t together. But… them being ‘together’ is also the reason Seungmin and I aren’t together! Or at least, a part of it…_

He dragged a hand down his face. Everything was so complicated, but his conversation with Changbin made it slightly clearer – he and Seungmin were confirmed not an item, yet it was unclear if Seungmin, like Changbin wanted more or not.

Still, like a puzzle down to its final pieces, everything seemed to be falling into place. Felix and Hyunjin were fine. Changbin was fine. Jisung was fine, happier now that Chan was… more fine than before.

His heart ached at the thought with Chan. Despite them both attending class again, it definitely wasn’t back to weekly library study sessions or constant catchups at fast-food chains. Their banter was more generic, more like their first few weeks of becoming friends – too scared to cross the line into personal and cause offence.

Yet, that wasn’t anything Minho felt he could really change. Doing less was probably better – hell whenever Minho had a crush it was usually time that healed his wounds (Seungmin perhaps being the only exception.)

It wasn’t his fault for not loving Chan back in the way the Australian wanted, but it was for leading him on for so long, using the boy’s heart for personal gain and selfish reasons.

Maybe he’d never forgive himself for that, but then, time could heal most things, change a person too.

Time. It was time. Time to talk with Seungmin, get everything that had been building up for the past few months and maybe even that had extended for their whole friendship.

He walked up the stairs, feeling them move and creak beneath his feet. He eyed the door, took in a deep breath.

“Min?” he called out into the hallway expecting an answer or to see the television on but there was nothing. Frowning he repeated the name glancing at the time. Seungmin should be home unless he was staying out to celebrate after his final exam.

But still, despite their shitty interactions in real life, both of them always made sure to send a quick message of their whereabouts whenever plans changed. It was unlike Seungmin not too; his organised personality extended over their fraying relationship.

“Seungmin!” he called out a final time, a hint of worry shooting through him when no message appeared on his phone.

He threw his backpack on the hallway’s floor and was met by Doongie and Dori mewing at him as if to say something or warn him. Unease twisted in his gut, his heart pummelling in his throat. He thought about calling Changbin with the number the younger had left him after their talk, but then he heard it.

The cries.

“Min!?” he shouted, running to where Seungmin’s bedroom door was, pounding on it, fear shooting through every movement.

Fuck, what had happened? Today was Seungmin’s most important exam – had he failed?!

Another cry, a wail this time bled through the door, and too anxious to wait for the other to allow him in, he pushed open the door and-

“Seungmin?”

The boy, dressed in his orange hoodie Minho had bought him for his last birthday sat hunched on his bedroom floor, his hair dishevelled, his cheeks and nose red and dripping with tears.

“I’m s-sorry, Hyung,” the other sobbed and Minho searched over the boy, expecting to see something horrific like an empty bottle of pills or an-

Then he saw it.

Cradled in Seungmin’s arms, blending in with the orange cloth.

Soonie.

He fell onto his knees. Reached out a trembling hand. Touched her greying fur.

She was cold.

He felt everything fall apart.

“What are you doing!” he wailed, tears and snot running down his numb face. “Please, S-Seungmin, get up! We can save her, please we just need to go now, please-”

Seungmin glared up tears sheening in his own bloodshot eyes. “N-No, Hyung. She’s gone.”

Minho wept again, clinging onto her soft fur as if in the action itself he was clinging onto his own past. “P-Please, the vet – p-please, M-Minnie!”

Seungmin reached an arm around him and Minho cried and cried and cried, smelling the last of Soonie’s comforting fur, the thing that had kept him alive when he got picked on for not being able to do mathematics in grade seven, or when he had got rejected from his dream university, or when things in life, or with Seungmin or Chan just didn’t work out.

He cried until he couldn’t see any more. Seungmin rubbed his back and once such an awakening, elevating touch felt so sombre and hollow. The boy whispered the same phrase of ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again until Minho felt like he was falling down a deep, deep hole.

After a while, Seungmin got up off the floor and ripped Soonie away from him.

Doongie and Dori mewed at him, and he cradled them and cried again, as they moved every once in a while; licked his stray tears.

He closed his tired aching eyes. Seungmin returned. He held Seungmin. They didn’t speak.

They never spoke.

After a while, they didn’t even cry.

Just held on, and on and on, like letting go would be for forever.

Jeongin came up from Busan to see them.

Minho wondered if Seungmin implored him to come up, but of course, he didn’t ask.

Jeongin was like glue. He held them together from their dysfunctional selves ten folded from Soonie’s death. He cleaned the house, cuddled with Dori, eased them both into only slightly stilted conversations compared to radio silence before and even taught himself how to work the oven.

Minho almost burst into tears again when Jeongin came through holding a perfectly cooked dinner, almost a reverse-homage to the cake-burning fiasco at the start of the year. It reminded him of how much had changed in just months’ time.

Jeongin’s youthful energy reminded him of when they first got Dori, after their first real fight. She then had helped be the glue, and now, Jeongin was almost the same.

Minho struggled through his final exams. It was the first ones he had done without Soonie in his life, getting her as a kitten at twelve. Despite Chan going out of his way and putting aside his feelings to help him in library sessions to learn different corporate social responsibility management issues when that exact question came up on the exam, he wrote nothing.

His parents gave him hell for his failing grade and Minho sat tearfully at the other end of the line. It was Jeongin in fact that calmed everyone down and managed to reach the negotiation that as long as Minho got all B’s next semester his parents wouldn’t cut him off.

Minho gave the younger a smile when it was over. Jeongin grinned back, flashed him a thumbs-up, but even that didn’t seem as happy-go-lucky as it was at the beginning of his stay.

That made Minho feel sad. The boy had just officially graduated high school – waiting for his results before he could get accepted into university and yet instead of relaxing like other kids his age, he was dealing with Minho and Seungmin’s shit.

He promised himself that when the boy moved here for university, the same one he was attending, he would make a big effort to get to know the other more than a mutual friend basis.

However, he quickly revoked that thought and decided to start immediately, so to thank Jeongin, he treated him to a milkshake at District Nine; Jisung their server. It just so happened to be that Chan and Changbin were both there, and Jisung took his break early so they could all meet and chat with the latest newcomer. (Jeongin and Jisung were a chaotic duo. They already exchanged numbers and Minho was sure he saw a screen of them conniving together for pranks to pull on everyone.)

_Coincidence,_ Minho thought. The world really was a small place.

(When he introduced Jeongin to Hyunjin and Felix a few days later when the younger expressed interest in learning how to dance, he laughed as the boy’s face heated bright red.

_“They like – shouldn’t exist on Earth, am I right_?” he had poked fun as Jeongin stuttered and gawked at everything the two beautiful humans did.

_“Shuddup,”_ Jeongin had grumbled and Minho cackled again.

He thought that night he could really consider Jeongin a friend.)

“You need to talk to Seungmin,” Jeongin told him on his last day as they sat in Minho’s room, Seungmin out with his medical friends.

Minho dipped his head back till it hit the wall looking away from the little vase with Soonie’s nametag wrapped around it as he did so. “It’s all just so hard.”

Jeongin didn’t look as sympathetic, but his whispered confession was sorrowful. “I don’t think I can watch you guys fall apart.”

And Minho wondered why that made his heart break so damn much.

When Jeongin left at sunset, Seungmin didn’t rest his head on Minho’s shoulder like he had the last time.

They stood side by side, rigid and stiff like dominos never destined to topple; the line failing earlier up the track.

When they went back up to their shared apartment the stairs groaned for them. The oven full of a surprise cake Jeongin had baked for his thank-you gift hummed for them. The television they sat together in front of for the first time in weeks moved for them.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the remote and muted the advertisements.

He sucked in a breath. “Seungmin, we need to talk.”

The boy turned to him, blank-faced. Then, he nodded as if defeated. “Yeah, okay.”

Minho swallowed. He had dreamt all the scenarios to get to this position, thinking it’d need more convincing, but he hadn’t actually thought what to say now.

“Why didn’t you visit me in hospital when I hurt my knee?” is what he blurted out instead of a simple un-attacking approach.

Seungmin’s face morphed into one of accusatory. “Why did you almost fuck Chan-ssi on our couch?”

Minho frowned, irritated the younger could wield both his mistake and Chan’s feelings so easily into a weapon against him. “Well then why did _you-”_

He cut himself off. This would get nowhere. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he readjusted his position on the couch till he was slightly closer to Seungmin than before.

“Wait, let’s not fight,” he breathed out, searching the younger’s face, those eyes he used to, and still deep inside of him loves. “Please.”

Maybe it’s his expression, or his tone, that makes Seungmin drop his guard just even slightly. “Okay, okay… what do we talk about then?”

Minho sat back a little, realising their close proximity. “How about we… answer the questions.”

Seungmin eyes widened slightly, but after a few seconds of worrying his lip, he nods. “I didn’t come to see you because… I was scared, I guess. You’ve always been so… strong. I didn’t know how severe your injury was, and as a med student, every day I see how injury and sickness can ruin people’s lives… their happiness. I was terrified that maybe you wouldn’t recover. Mentally.”

Minho hummed, rubbed his knee. In reality, the injury almost had destroyed him – those three weeks of eating and sitting on the couch all a blur – and it certainly would have if it were more permanent.

Seungmin glanced over to him. “Now you.”

Minho looked away. He had to keep his end of the bargain, yet the words he knew he had to say seemed to solidify in his mouth and choke his slowly.

Yet, he opened his mouth.

“Chan… through everything between you and me, the silence and everything, he was always there,” he slicked his hair back, guilt weighing on him like never before. “And uh – I think subconsciously I knew he liked me, and I just really wanted someone’s attention, I think, so…”

He trialled off but Seungmin’s serious face made him continue.

“-I thought you and Changbin were… together and that made me – made me feel alone, and Chan was there and… hot. We got tipsy, and I… initiated it… I don’t think I would have gone all the way because who I really wanted-”

He stared at Seungmin, the words a lump in his throat. “Wasn’t him.”

He watched as Seungmin’s face slowly flushed an understanding red.

“Seungmin-” he began, so he could be the one to say it. “Min, I… like you. In a more than friends way… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, no pressure, because I know you’re not gay or whatever and-”

“Who told you that?” Seungmin’s face was stern.

Minho opened his mouth to respond, but when no name came to mind, he paused. “I… I don’t know I just thought because you are _you_ , ya know?”

Seungmin was silent for a few seconds and Minho felt his heart collapse in his chest. He fucked up. Again. He had ruined it-

And then Seungmin laughed. “What the hell, Hyung? I thought you knew!”

Minho frowned, confused as to why Seungmin wasn’t slapping his right now. “Kn-Knew what?”

The younger smiled playfully. “Jeongin and I… we were like very close to becoming a thing last year but then we just decided to stay friends… I thought I told you.”

Minho felt his jaw drop and laughed too. “N-No! You didn’t tell me, God! I never said or did anything because – because I thought you were straight, or like – definitely not into _me.”_

Then he stopped. Seungmin did too. Because that was the final question.

He steadied his racing heart. “Min, do you-”

“Can I kiss you?”

Minho felt his cheeks redden at those four words. Feeling like it was his first kiss all over again, he nodded; closed his eyes.

In all his fitful daydreams about this exact moment, it was always him overcoming his cowardice and initiating or leading the kiss, never Seungmin. But as the brown-haired boy kissed him, slightly ungracefully and inexperienced he smiled because life had been unexpected this time in the best of ways.

Then Seungmin drew back, a petulant pout on his lips. “Why are you laughing?”

Minho did laugh then, a gleeful, happy giggle.

“I’m not laughing at you Minnie,” he reassured, taking the other’s hand. “I’m just happy. Really happy.”

Seungmin’s pout slipped away into a sweet smile of his own and this tie Minho leaned in, fulfilling his desires, fulfilling his heart.

They didn’t speak, but this time it was good. After all, actions spoke louder than words.

When they broke away, they were both red, a volatile but youthful mix of emotions in the air. Half of Minho wanted to kiss the younger again, finally, get everything he ever dreamed of, but he held back, even just offered a peck on the lips when Seungmin tried again.

“Let’s take things slow, okay?” he said, mainly for Seungmin’s sake. He knew the boy had never been in a relationship before, and that was… different to himself. He had to take things slow, guide Seungmin through this while the other could also teach him many things too.

Seungmin nodded and Minho sighed in comfort when the boy held his hands, fitting so perfectly together like it was the two final pieces of a puzzle.

“A movie?” Seungmin asked, his eyes sparkling in the evening night.

Minho grinned at the familiarity but the newness of it all but groaned when Doongie leapt up onto his chest and four little, but heavy paws took the air out of his chest.

Seungmin laughed then and gently grabbed the brown tabby ball of fur at the end of the couch. “Dori loves me so much, don’t you kitty?”

Minho grumbled that he’d been stuck with the worse cat off the two, but Doongie reminded him so much of his youth, of Soonie, so he couldn’t help but cuddle the bratty ginger a little tighter.

Seungmin chose a thriller, something comfortable for both of them, but apart from the opening scenes, Minho found he couldn’t concentrate well. All he could do was glance at Seungmin’s side profile the boy, so opposite to himself, entirely focussed on the movie in front of him.

Minho grinned a secret little smile. Because this, despite the changes was so much like before – when his crush was at its peak when there was no silence between them but instead little moments that would have him happy for hours after.

But this, this was so much better.

So, as the movie played he realised he loved Kim Seungmin, and maybe he always had.

He realised he loved the boy that grumbled as he mopped the bathroom floor every Saturday even when almost every Friday, he had yelled at Minho about how he was never doing it again no matter what.

He realised he loved the boy that rubbed sensitive-skin moisturiser on his face every morning and night, ranting about how Minho never did it and was going to get wrinkles at an early age because of it, and then every time without fail got it into his eyes.

He realised he loved the boy that complained he didn’t like the cats but secretly fed them under the dinner table. Or pretended he was never interested in hearing about his dance classes, but Minho knew from the way his nose was scrunched up in faux concentration on his computer or the way his eyes danced when Minho told him a funny anecdote meant he was always intrigued and listening.

And so, he, Lee Minho, realised he was in love with the one and only Kim Seungmin.

And he smiled as he looked over at the other, his skin still flushed from their kiss and changing colour from the light of the television, and he realised that loving Kim Seungmin was the best decision, even if it was unintentional, that he had ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey gang, been a while.
> 
> Firstly, thank you for reading! What did you think? This one had a happier ending than my other works... no one died! (Well, except Soonie, but that was a pretty long time coming.) 
> 
> Did you like Minho and Seungmin? Who was your favourite character? I tried making both Minho and Seungmin's actions seem believable and realistic, and show how silence can tear something apart so easily, to almost unbelievable measures. I strangely loved Jeongin this fic even though he was barely there (I'M SORRY). ALso future sequel I can lowkey see Hyunjin/Felix/Jeongin ;0??? JK this won't have a sequel but ahhh.
> 
> It was interesting writing 'rare pairs' like 2MIN and Hyunlix? (Is that the name?? I have no clue.)
> 
> What was your favourite part? I loved the writing whole knee situation and how all that frustration bubbled up into falling out with Felix and Hyunjin because it's kinda like how the accumulation of stress can result in an uncharacteristic explosion. Like Topple kinda now I think about it.
> 
> What part made you scream in anger? Mine was when they wouldn't talk to each other :((
> 
> Also, Minho kinda is an asshole in this. Like mainly to Chan. I was trying to show how blind-sighted he was in his love for Seungmin where he firstly abused Chan's feelings to forget, then didn't even say sorry or anything after the incident. IDK. Tell me what you guys think.
> 
> Gone Days was chosen as the title because it's like when Seungmin and Minho are good their relationship is really upbeat like the song Gone Days, but when they're silent their days are wasted, hence 'gone' days.
> 
> This is pretty different to what I usually write with my psychological ambiguity in my other works, but I wanted to explore a relationship because I think this is the first 'stated' relationship I've written? Idk, tbh sometimes I'm uncomfortable writing relationships in my fics because Stray Kids are real people... that's why there are so few instances of it.
> 
> Anyway, there was definitely things I could have improved/expanded upon in this like his love for Soonie hence why he was so distraught when she died, but tbh I cbs lol. Uhhh yee
> 
> Anyway in my life I've graduated high school! Finished all my exams and unlike last year if you stuck around for Topple, they all went well! There's also a lot of confusing personal things in my life at the moment that I need to sort out and that's also why my updating has been so slow, and I apologise for my 'I Am You' readers! 
> 
> Hopefully another work out soon :))) Hope you all stay safe too.
> 
> Please comment your thoughts on this different kind of writing and maybe what you are excited to read from me next? Like not requests or anything because idk why I can't write something unless it's my own idea, but like who do you think will be the centre of my next one-shot?? If I'm honest I have no clue - I start and stop my fics so easily!!
> 
> Talic <3333


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